fifi 


THE    PURSUIT 


"/  knoiv  HOTV  that  you  are  a  gentleman,"  she  saiJ  simply 
FRONTISPIECE.     See  page  109 


THE    PURSUIT 


BY 

FRANK    S  A  VILE 

Author  of  "Beyond  the  Great  South  Wall,"  etc. 


WITH     ILLUSTRATIONS     BY 

HERMAN  PFEIFER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1910 


Copyright,  1909,  1910, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWW,  AKD  COMPAHY. 


All  rightt  raerved 
Published,  June,  1910 


THE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE.  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    THE  LADY  OF  THE  PIER 1 

II.    AT  THE  TENT  CLUB 15 

III.  THE  SHADOW  OF  A  NAME 26 

IV.  DESPARD  EXPLAINS 36 

V.    MR.  MILLER 47 

VI.  LANDON'S  NEW  PROFESSION 58 

VII.  VILLA  EULALIA  ... 69 

VIII.  THE  FIRST  TRICK  is  LOST 83 

IX.  AYLMER  is  EXPLICIT 93 

X.  BY  FAVOR  OF  THE  FOG 105 

XI.  RATTIER  LOSES  HIS  CALM 117 

XII.  THE  AMBUSH  OF  THE  BROOM 127 

XIII.  THE  TRAP 143 

XIV.  ONE  SIDE  OF  A  BARGAIN 155 

XV.    PERINAUD'S  NEWS 166 

XVI.    AT  MELILLA 177 

XVII.    MUHAMMED  SCORES  TWICE 190 

XVIII.  THE  SANTA  MARGARITA'S  LAZARET  .     .    .  201 

XIX.  MILLER  is  STILL  IMPERTURBABLE     .  214 


2138151  ' 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAOE 

XX.  AYLMER  CLIMBS  —  AND  FALLS   ....  225 

XXL  FATE  STAYS  HER  HAND 236 

XXII.  THE  PRISON 247 

XXIII.  PADRE  SIGISMONDI 258 

XXIV.  LUIGI'S  HOSPITALITY 269 

XXV.  FATE'S  FINAL  WORD 281 

XXVI.  DAWN  COMES 291 

XXVII.  SHADOWS  Go 308 

XXVIII.  FATE  SMILES  AT  LAST  316 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  I  know  now  that  you  are  a  gentleman,"  she  said 

simply FRONTISPIECE 

"  You  saved  the  boy  ! "  she  said,  in  a  quick,  panting 

whisper Page     24 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  am  Sergeant  Perinaud "     .    .       "      167 

She  gripped  the  protecting   hand   between  her 

fingers "       260 


THE   PURSUIT 

CHAPTER   I 

THE    LADY    OF    THE    PIER 

IT  was  not  the  muleteer's  shove,  slight  but  signifi- 
cant though  it  was,  which  produced  John  Aylmer's 
shrug  of  irritation.  His  resentment  was  directed  at 
himself.  He  realized  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  a 
gaucherie.  For  thirty  seconds  he  had  been  standing 
halted  in  the  main  street  of  Tangier,  a  rock  of  obstruc- 
tion to  all  the  rabble  traffic  which  passes  between  the 
Bab  al  Marsa  and  the  Bab  al  Sok,  staring  at  —  what  ? 

At  a  pretty  woman. 

He  reddened  under  his  tan.  The  muleteer's  shoul- 
der had  displaced  him  for  purely  practical  reasons, 
for,  indeed,  almost  benevolent  ones,  for  the  mules 
would  have  been  capable  of  obtaining  with  their  teeth 
what  their  guardian  had  obtained  by  mere  weight  of 
his  body.  But  Aylmer  felt  that  by  accepted  social 
standards  a  kick  would  not  have  been  more  than  his 
due.  Had  he  not  been  behaving  like  some  cub  of  a 
cockney  clerk  at  an  Earl's  Court  Exhibition?  His 
lips  moved.  He  was  muttering  excuses  of  himself  to 
himself,  and  knew  that  they  were  valid,  but  that  an 
onlooker  would  have  had  no  clue  to  them. 

For  it  was  not  her  prettiness  which  had  drawn  his 
attention  to  the  girl.  It  took  no  second  glance  to  as- 

1 


2  THE    PURSUIT 

sure  him  that  she  was  no  countrywoman  of  his,  but 
an  American.  Her  features  had  the  clean  regularity, 
her  complexion  the  pale,  unfurrowed  smoothness  which 
is  kept  intact  on  the  western  side  of  the  Atlantic  and 
there  alone.  The  Moroccan  sunlight  was  proving  in 
a  dozen  places  the  mistake  the  shadows  made  when 
they  dulled  the  gold  of  her  hair  to  brown.  Her  eyes 
matched  the  waters  of  the  unrippled  bay. 

Though  he  recognized  these  things,  they  had  not, 
in  the  first  place,  attracted  Aylmer's  attention.  Amer- 
ican girls  —  pretty  American  girls  —  are  no  rarity  in 
Tangier  since  Mr.  Cook  threw  over  Moghreb-al-Aksa 
the  ffigis  of  his  protection.  Under  ordinary  circum- 
stances he  would  have  looked,  approved,  and,  without 
altering  his  stride,  passed  on.  But  here  was  some- 
thing which  appealed  to  the  inherited  instincts  of  a 
gentleman.  What  was  it? 

Apprehension. 

He  felt  no  reasonable  doubt  on  the  subject  Among 
this  girl's  natural  attributes,  he  told  himself,  were 
placidity,  content,  self-reliance.  The  first  two  were 
wanting.  The  third  was  strained.  There  was  almost 
a  sense  of  furtiveness  in  the  glances  which  she  turned 
to  throw  not  only  about  but,  occasionally,  behind  her. 
Frankly,  she  was  afraid. 

His  interest  fed  upon  observation.  He  glanced  at 
her  more  narrowly,  he  observed  her  surroundings.  He 
drew  aside  out  of  the  mid-street  traffic,  and  under 
pretence  of  lighting  a  cigarette,  halted  again  in  the 
shadow  of  an  awning. 

She  was  not  alone.  She  held  by  the  hand  a  small, 
alert-looking  child  —  a  boy,  who  watched  the  passers-by 
with  the  happy,  unconcentrated  interest  of  childhood. 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    PIER  3 

His  eyes  reviewed  his  surroundings  without  any  of 
the  surprise  of  unaccustomedness ;  obviously  the  scene 
was  not  strange  to  him.  He  smiled  at  Jew  and  Mos- 
lem, Christian  and  Infidel,  with  a  pleasant  patronage 
which  one  or  two  itinerant  pedlars  and  shop  touts 
returned  with  obsequious  affability.  One  man,  indeed, 
—  a  bronzed,  hawk-nosed  specimen  of  the  desert  Arab 
clad  in  a  ragged  djeldb  of  brown,  —  laughed  gaily, 
plucked  a  carnation  from  behind  his  ear,  and  flung  it 
to  his  small  admirer  as  he  passed. 

The  child  gave  a  little  cackle  of  delight  as  he  picked 
it  up.  The  girl  looked  down  as  he  did  so  and  frowned. 

"  Who  was  that,  Selim  ? "  she  asked  quickly,  and 
Aylmer  saw  that  the  question  was  addressed  to  a 
stout,  muscular  Moor  who  was  in  attendance. 

The  man  lifted  his  shoulders  in  deprecation  and 
darted  a  suspicious  glance  towards  the  crowd  which 
had  already  closed  upon  the  djeldb  of  brown. 

"  Some  desert  dog,"  he  answered  sullenly.  "  But 
indeed  Sidi  Jan  encourages  all  the  rabble  of  the  Sok 
to  take  these  liberties.  He  smiles,  and  the  jackals 
think  they  have  license  to  smile  back." 

The  object  of  these  reproaches  thrust  the  carnation 
carelessly  behind  his  own  small  ear. 

"  I  have  seen  him  before  —  once,  twice,  many 
times,"  he  explained.  "  He  laughs ;  he  is  not  gray 
and  dull  like  Selim.  I  would  like  to  have  him  for 
my  kavass." 

"  I  drown  in  perspiration  three  shirts  a  day  while 
I  wait  on  thee,"  affirmed  the  fat  man  reproachfully. 
"  Is  this  thy  gratitude  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  waited  on ;  I  wish  to  be 
played  with,"  said  the  child.  "  I  should  like  to  go 


4  THE    PURSUIT 

to  the  sands  where  the  Raid's  horses  are  galloped,  and 
play  with  the  brown  man.  We  would  paddle  and  I 
would  throw  the  water  over  him.  He  has  promised 
me  this." 

The  girl  started  and  gave  a  convulsive  little  grip 
of  the  fingers  which  lay  in  hers. 

"  He  has  spoken  to  you  ?  "  she  cried.  "  When  — 
where?" 

The  boy  nodded  his  yellow  mop  of  hair  importantly. 

"  Yesterday  as  I  rode  through  the  Sok,"  he  an- 
swered. "  He  walked  beside  my  donkey  and  told  me 
that  I  was  a  horseman  already  made,  and  should  be 
on  the  back  of  a  black  barb  like  Sid'  Abdullah's. 
Then  I,  too,  could  race  upon  the  sands." 

The  girl  looked  stonily  at  the  Moor. 

"  How  was  this,  Selim  ? "  she  asked  coldly. 
"  Where  was  your  watchfulness  ?  " 

The  man  spread  out  his  hands. 

"  Am  I  a  prophet  —  am  I  Allah  Himself  ? "  he 
cried  aggrievedly.  "  There  was  a  crowd  —  a  press  — 
in  the  Sok  yesterday,  wherein  one  had  scarcely  room 
to  take  breath.  And  you  have  seen  for  yourself.  Sidi 
Jan  snatches  at  familiarities  from  such  as  that  one; 
the  nearer  the  gutter  he  finds  his  friends  the  better 
is  he  pleased." 

She  looked  down  at  the  delinquent,  who,  without 
being  disconcerted,  grinned  back. 

"  John,"  she  admonished  him  gravely,  "  you  are 
never  to  speak  or  listen  to  strangers  in  the  Sok,  or 
anywhere  else." 

John  wriggled  and  pouted. 

"  I  love  the  brown  man,"  he  answered  defiantly. 

"  He  's  probably  a  wicked,  wicked  man,"  said  his 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    PIER  5 

monitress.  "  Instead  of  playing  with  you  on  the  sands, 
he  'd  very  likely  bite  you  —  like  a  camel." 

The  eyes  beneath  the  yellow  mop  grew  round  with 
interest. 

"  Would  he  ?  "  he  asked  breathlessly.  "  That  would 
—  would  be  fun !  " 

Do  what  he  could  to  restrain  it,  a  smile  broadened 
across  Aylmer's  face,  and  in  that  moment  the  girl, 
looking  up,  met  his  eye.  He  reddened  slightly  again, 
hastily  struck  and  put  a  match  to  his  still  unlit  cigar- 
ette. But  in  that  instant  he  had  read  surprise  first 
in  her  glance,  then  the  knowledge  that  she  had  been 
overheard,  and  lastly  —  yes,  there  was  no  doubt  about 
it  —  fear.  Not  the  apprehension  of  the  unknown  and 
unexpected  this  time,  but  the  thrill  of  distrust  ex- 
perienced by  one  seeing  peril  looming  unveiled  before 
her.  She  was  afraid  of  him,  John  Aylmer!  Her 
apprehension  was  no  longer  vague;  he  had  become 
the  target  of  it. 

She  dropped  her  eyes,  made  a  sign  to  the  Moor, 
and  swung  quickly  towards  the  nearest  shop.  And 
Aylmer,  in  the  midst  of  the  mental  disturbance  caused 
by  the  incident,  barely  repressed  a  smile.  For  the 
booth,  it  was  little  more,  was  stored  with  the  coarse 
calicoes  and  prints  which  appeal  to  the  dwellers  in 
the  desert ;  there  was  certainly  nothing  there  to  please 
the  tourist  or  hunter  of  curios.  No  —  hunted,  she  had 
turned  instinctively  to  the  nearest  shelter.  Undoubtedly 
she  had  fled  from  —  him. 

He  wheeled  quickly  and  strode  off  down  the  hill 
towards  the  Bab-al-Marsa.  Explanation  eluded  him; 
he  felt  baffled.  At  the  same  time  he  was  conscious  of 
a  sense  of  relief.  Instinct  had  brought  him  to  a  halt, 


6  THE    PURSUIT 

the  instinct  which  bids  the  normal  man  stop  to  offer 
help  to  the  helpless  even  before  that  help  is  claimed. 
He  had  discovered,  or  thought  he  had  discovered,  fear 
in  the  girl's  attitude,  and  almost  inadvertently  had 
stayed  to  rout  it.  And  now?  What  fear  could  have 
a  stable  foundation  which  made  him,  an  absolute 
stranger,  its  sudden  focus? 

He  shook  his  head  regretfully.  To  what  could  not 
neurasthenia  or  some  such  fashionable  derangement  of 
the  nerves  bring  a  woman  in  these  days  of  fashionable 
stress?  And  yet?  Her  bearing  had  not  been  that  of 
a  neurotic.  And  she  was  young,  three  and  twenty  at 
the  outside.  Her  face  was  unlined,  her  eyes  clear,  yet, 
after  a  moment's  scrutiny,  she  had  fled  from  him. 
He  could  not  dismiss  the  problem ;  he  carried  it  with 
him  out  of  the  Marsa  gate,  along  the  wooden  pier.  Be- 
hind the  toll  bar  he  sat  upon  a  timber  balk  and  studied 
it.  It  gave  him  a  sense  of  physical  pain  to  remember  the 
expression  in  those  eyes,  of  which  the  sea  was  one  vast 
reminder. 

A  minute  or  two  later,  with  a  petulant  shrug,  he 
dismissed  the  matter  —  or  tried  to  —  from  his  thoughts. 
After  all,  mystery  though  it  was,  the  affair  had  no  real 
significance  for  him.  He  had,  inadvertently,  frightened 
a  lady.  But  no  real  responsibility  was  his.  He  had  looked 
at  her  keenly ;  too  keenly,  perhaps,  but  with  no  shadow 
of  offence.  She  had  chosen  to  interpret  his  scrutiny  as 
menacing.  They  would  probably  not  meet  again  — 
why,  indeed,  should  they?  And  yet,  this  decision  was 
mentally  addressed  to  a  possibly  listening  Fate  to  disarm 
it.  Without  defining  the  desire  even  to  himself,  he  knew 
that  it  was  there.  He  wanted  to  meet  her  again;  he 
wanted  it  badly. 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    PIER  7 

It  was  with  this  desire  still  at  the  back  of  his  mind  that 
he  turned  his  eyes  seaward  on  the  mission  which  had 
brought  him  to  the  harbor. 

The  Diomdde?  Was  she  in  ?  Would  her  commander, 
Paul  Rattier,  be  in  time  to  join  him  in  riding  out  to  the 
Tent  Club  that  evening,  or  would  they  have  to  post- 
pone their  expedition  to  the  early  hours  of  daylight  ?  He 
strained  his  glance  northward  where  the  gray  bulk  of 
Gibraltar  was  hidden  by  floating  clouds  of  Mediterranean 
mist. 

Two  French  men-of-war  lay  far  out  in  the  bay.  A  trail 
of  black  smoke  showed  where  another  steamed  eastward 
with  invalids  from  Casablanca  to  Oran.  But  neither  of 
the  three  was  the  Diomdde;  he  knew  her  squat  turrets 
among  a  thousand.  He  gave  a  pessimistic  little  sigh. 
Instead  of  the  jovial  evening  out  at  Awara  under  canvas, 
they  would  have  the  hot  discomforts  of  an  hotel  and  a 
fifteen-mile  ride  in  the  dawning  to  sap  their  energies 
before  the  day's  sport  began.  He  looked  up  with  discon- 
tent at  the  westering  sun.  It  appeared  to  be  sinking 
towards  the  horizon  with  almost  indecent  haste. 

He  pulled  out  another  cigarette  and  lounged  lazily 
along  the  plank,  watching  the  traffic  of  the  pier  and  shore 
in  blase  indifference.  Just  below  him  half  a  dozen  bar- 
casses  were  being  filled  with  stout,  squat  little  cattle, 
destined  for  food  for  the  weary  troops  of  Ber  Rechid  and 
El  Setat.  The  bullocks  were  being  goaded  up  an  incline 
of  planks  and  tumbled  roughly  into  the  unwieldy  lighters, 
and  as  these  were  filled  a  little  tug  fussed  up  and  towed 
them  by  threes  to  the  waiting  steamer  of  the  Compagnie 
Mixte.  And  here  the  sufferings  of  the  bullocks  deepened 
from  mere  discomfort  to  the  fine  edge  of  tragedy.  In 
twos  they  were  lassoed  round  the  horns.  The  steam 


8  THE    PURSUIT 

winch  aboard  the  steamer  crashed,  and  with  straining 
necks  and  starting  eyes  the  unfortunate  beasts  were  rushed 
up  through  the  air  and  swung  with  terrifying  speed  down 
into  the  hold.  They  were  near  enough  for  him  to  see 
through  his  binoculars  the  strained  mute  agony  of  fear 
in  the  eyes  of  each  brute  as  it  swung.  And  there  was  a 
dog  on  board.  Each  time  as  the  living  load  passed 
within  reach  of  its  leap,  it  sprang  into  the  air  and  made 
its  teeth  meet  in  the  helpless  flesh.  And  the  stevedores 
applauded  and  goaded  him  to  further  efforts.  Finally 
the  horns  of  one  struggling  animal  broke.  There  was  a 
hoarse  laugh  as  it  fell,  to  break  other  bones,  no  doubt, 
in  the  depths  of  the  hold,  or  to  mutilate  some  former 
comrade  below.  Aylmer  turned  away  with  a  shrug  of 
sickened  disgust.  What  a  land  of  cruelty  it  was,  of  grind- 
ing cruelty  which  spared  neither  man,  woman,  nor  child, 
and  certainly  no  beast  1  He  turned  his  glance  shore- 
wards  to  avoid  seeing  the  tragedy  of  the  bullocks  repeat 
itself. 

As  he  did  so  he  gave  a  start  of  suddenly  aroused  in- 
terest. Rapidly  nearing  him  was  a  man  whom  he  rec- 
ognized. He  was  the  hawk-nosed,  swarthy  son  of  the 
desert  who  had  flung  the  carnation  at  the  American 
child's  feet.  He  was  walking  rapidly,  smiling,  talking  in 
a  quick  undertone  to  another  child,  one  who  trotted  at 
his  side  happily  enough  —  born  of  his  own  people,  this  — 
a  little  Moor,  clad  in  a  tiny  bournous  and  a  hooded 
djelab  of  brown. 

They  were  making  for  the  steps  which  led  down  from 
Aylmer's  side  to  the  huddle  of  rowboats  which  awaited 
chance  fares  below. 

Suddenly  Aylmer's  attention,  which  had  been  aroused 
merely  by  the  fact  that  the  sight  of  the  man  led  his 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    PIER  g 

thoughts  back  to  the  interest  of  an  hour  before,  became 
concentrated.  The  Moorish  child  babbled  in  English ! 

"A  black  stallion!"  he  said  impressively.  "One  that 
will  arch  his  neck  like  the  dome  of  the  mosque,  and  carry 
me  past  all  the  other  horses  on  the  sands?" 

"It  shall  be  as  you  desire,  little  lord,"  answered  the 
man,  easily.  "We  have  but  to  take  a  boat  from  among 
the  many  below  and  row  across  to  the  beach.  There  the 
horse  of  thy  desires  awaits  thee.  Look  carefully.  Per- 
chance thou  canst  see  it  even  now.  Thou  hast  the  eyes 
of  a  hawk;  I  know  it." 

And  then  Aylmer  understood.  He  saw  that  below  the 
child's  ears  and  along  the  line  of  his  hair  a  dye  had  been 
applied.  The  golden  curls  had  been  stuffed  back  into 
the  hood  of  the  djelab,  shoes  and  stockings  flung  away, 
and  little  dye-stained  feet  thrust  into  yellow  slippers. 
The  folds  of  the  bournous  covered  all  else.  It  was  the 
child  of  the  street  encounter,  the  child  himself ! 

Aylmer's  instincts,  rather  than  any  formed  purpose, 
brought  him  to  his  feet  and  in  front  of  the  man,  as  the 
latter  was  about  to  descend  the  stairs. 

"Where  did  you  gain  authority  over  this?"  he  asked 
curtly  in  Arabic,  pointing  down  at  the  boy. 

The  man  eyed  him  with  stony  imperturbability. 

"Is  Tangier  come  to  such  a  pass  that  we  of  the  Faith 
have  to  justify  to  Nazarenes  our  authority  over  our  own 
children?"  he  asked.  "Keep  to  thine  own  affairs, 
Kaffirbillah." 

Aylmer  did  not  unbar  the  road  of  the  steps.  He  leaned 
down  and  spoke  directly  to  the  child,  who  was  regarding 
him  with  half  timid  curiosity. 

"Is  this  man  your  kavass?"  he  said  gently.  "Is  he  in 
your  parents'  service?" 


io  THE    PURSUIT 

The  red  flush  of  guilt  rose  under  the  brown  dye.  A 
bright  yellow  curl  fell  from  out  of  the  djelab  hood  as  the 
small  head  was  shaken. 

"He  promised  me  a  horse,"  said  lips  which  had  begun 
to  have  a  distinct  semblance  of  trembling.  "They  have 
only  given  me  a  donkey  so  far  —  only  a  gray  donkey." 

"Then  they  do  not  know  that  you  are  with  this  man; 
they  would  not  allow  it?"  pursued  Aylmer. 

The  Moor  broke  in  angrily. 

"Do  not  be  questioned,  little  lord!"  he  cried.  "This 
is  a  son  of  infinite  shame  and  wickedness,  who  has  no 
rights  over  thee ! " 

"As  many,  at  least,  I  suspect,  as  thou,"  returned 
Aylmer.  "This  is  a  matter  for  investigation.  We  will 
come  to  the  post  of  the  Spanish  police  at  the  pier  head." 

"We!"  The  man's  eyes  flashed  wickedly.  "I  come 
not,  nor  this,  my  charge." 

Aylmer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That  is  a  matter  within  your  discretion,  for  yourself." 
He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  child's  shoulder.  "But  this 
one  goes  with  me." 

A  grin  of  rage  flashed  across  the  Moor's  features.  With 
one  hand  he  made  a  quick  clawing  snatch  at  the  child's 
arm;  the  other  he  plunged  into  his  bosom.  As  it  reap- 
peared a  knife  blade  flashed  in  the  sun. 

Mere  instinct  made  Aylmer  throw  up  his  arm  in  de- 
fence. Experience  and  presence  of  mind  bade  him 
fling  himself  to  one  side  without  removing  his  knee 
from  the  path  of  his  assailant.  Matters  followed  the 
usual  course  when  this  old  trick  of  the  desert  is  put  in 
action.  The  fellow  tripped,  plunged  forward  over  the 
outsprawled  limb,  and  fell  crashingly  upon  his  elbows. 

Aylmer's  first  thought  was  for  the  knife  which  gleamed 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    PIER  n 

upon  the  planking  half  a  dozen  yards  away.  He  scram- 
bled to  his  feet  and,  without  troubling  to  bend,  gravely 
kicked  it  into  the  sea.  At  the  same  time  he  was  aware 
of  a  commotion  behind  him.  The  small  child's  voice 
was  raised  in  anger. 

"I  hate  you  —  I  hate  you!"  he  declaimed.  "Now 
Selim  will  get  me ! " 

There  was  a  reason  for  his  wrath.  Panting,  blowing, 
and,  to  be  frank,  looking  uncommonly  like  an  over- 
driven buffalo,  the  Moor  attendant  was  speeding  down 
the  pier  with  outstretched  arms  furiously  gesticulating. 
The  flap  of  his  slippers  slammed  upon  the  boards,  boat 
hoys  jeered,  hotel  touts  made  comments  which  no 
Bowdler  could  render  into  reputable  English.  And  a 
few  yards  behind  him  —  Aylmer's  heart  gave  a  queer 
little  leap  at  the  sight  —  ran  totteringly  the  white-clad 
lady,  his  mistress. 

The  child  made  an  angry  gesture  of  repulse. 

"  I  won't  go  back ! "  he  shrilled.    "  I  won't,  I  won't  1 " 

He  looked  round  towards  his  new-found  friend,  who 
was  scrambling  to  his  feet.  He  ran  towards  him. 

Aylmer  stretched  out  a  hand  and  whirled  the  child  up, 
facing  towards  the  Moor.  The  latter  hesitated,  looked 
towards  the  advancing  figures,  and  hesitated  no  longer. 
Behind  the  lady  ran  a  couple  of  the  newly  raised  Spanish 
police. 

He  swerved  swiftly  aside,  dashed  down  the  steps,  and 
passed  rapidly  from  boat  to  boat  across  the  gunwales 
till  he  had  gained  one  on  the  outskirt  of  the  press.  He 
shouted  fiercely  to  the  boy  who  held  the  oars,  and  the 
latter  bent  to  his  work.  The  tide  was  with  them  and  they 
passed  rapidly  across  the  harbor  mouth  towards  the 
yellow  sands  outside  the  town. 


ia  THE    PURSUIT 

The  child  struggled  and  shouted  in  Aylmer's  arms, 
stretching  out  his  hands  as  he  saw  his  friend  disappear  in 
the  direction  of  the,  to  him,  still  credible  black  stallion 
and  other  promised  delights.  He  struck  out  passionately 
at  Selim  as  the  latter's  hand  closed  upon  him  like  the 
grip  of  an  embodied  Fate. 

"I  want  my  horse,  my  horse!"  he  wailed.  "I  don't 
want  a  donkey;  I  hate  it,  hate  it !" 

Aylmer  surrendered  him,  nothing  loath,  into  his 
attendant's  arms  and  then  stood  expectant,  hat  in  hand. 
As  she  saw  Selim  again  in  full  command  of  his  responsi- 
bilities, the  girl  dropped  from  a  run  into  a  rapid  walk. 
She  panted,  she  held  her  hand  upon  her  breast  as  she 
joined  them.  The  two  khaki-clad  police  inspected 
Aylmer  with  something  of  mistrust  in  their  gaze. 

For  a  moment  her  breath  failed  her ;  she  could  only  look 
at  the  captive  with  half  resentful,  half  satisfied  eyes. 
Then  she  shook  her  finger  at  him. 

"You  wicked  child!"  she  cried.  "You  wicked, 
wicked  child ! " 

The  small  sinner  laughed  defiantly. 

"The  brown  man  beckoned  me  from  the  door  of  the 
mosque,"  he  boasted.  "I  did  see  him  and  ran  behind 
the  mule  that  passed,  and  in  at  the  door,  and  the  brown 
man  caught  me  up  and  smeared  brown  stuff  on  my 
face,  and  ran  with  me  through  the  other  door  and  out 
into  the  other  street  and  covered  me  with  this."  He 
indicated  the  djelab  with  pride.  "And  Selim  did  not 
find  me.  Ho!  Ho!  I  saw  fat  Selim  jumping  like  a 
jerboa  as  we  passed  the  harbor  gate ! " 

Aylmer  inspected  him  gravely. 

"I  have  a  bamboo  cane  at  home  which  would  meet 
your  case,  young  man,"  he  said  quietly.  "Would  the 


THE    LADY    OF    THE    PIER  i3 

loan  of  it  be  a  boon  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly,  looking  at  the 
girl. 

There  was  no  answering  smile  in  her  eyes.  She  shook 
her  head. 

"Thank  you  for  —  your  intervention,"  she  said 
quickly.  "No,  we  never  beat  children  in  America;  we 
—  we  respect  them." 

Aylmer  nodded. 

"In  England  our  plan  is  to  make  them  respect  them- 
selves," he  answered.  "I  dare  say  both  methods  have 
their  advantages."  He  made  a  gesture  towards  the 
town.  "Can  I  have  the  pleasure  of  escorting  you 
back?"  he  asked.  "Have  you  any  further  —  attempts 
to  fear?" 

There  was  an  obvious  desire  for  information  in  the 
question  and  in  his  eyes. 

She  made  no  attempt  to  satisfy  it.  She  shook  her 
head  again. 

"Thank  you,  no,"  she  answered.  "John  will  have  no 
further  opportunities  to  escape  us;  we  have  had  our 
lesson.  I  can  only  thank  you  again  and  say  good 
morning." 

He  raised  his  cap  in  answer  to  her  bow.  He  watched 
her  turn  and  walk  after  Selim,  who  held  his  prisoner  en- 
folded in  an  embrace  that  gave  no  loophole  for  a  second 
escape,  little,  indeed,  for  any  movement  at  all.  Expres- 
sion gave  place  to  expression  on  Aylmer's  face.  Irritation 
succeeded  surprise  and  that  was  quickly  followed  by 
amusement. 

Finally  he  seemed  to  dismiss  the  subject  with  a  shrug 
which  was  all  bewilderment. 

"She  thanked  me,"  he  reminded  himself.  "She 
thanked  me,  but  her  manner  suggested  that  she  would 


i4  THE    PURSUIT 

rather  have  flung  me  a  sovereign  to  get  decently  rid  of 
me."     He   nodded   his   head    with   decision.     "She 's 
afraid  of  me,  that 's  the  truth.    Why  —  in  the  name  of 
all  that 's  sensible  —  Why?" 
Echo  supplied  no  answer. 


CHAPTER  II 

AT  THE  TENT  CLUB 

AYLMER  tightened  the  reins,  touched  the  rowels 
against  the  mare's  flank,  and  lifted  her  out  of  her 
easy  amble  into  something  like  a  canter.    He  called  to  his 
companion  and  pointed  up  the  slope  at  a  gleam  of  white 
set  in  the  dun  green  of  the  cork  woods. 

"The  camp !"  he  said,  and  gave  a  little  sigh  of  relief. 
Through  the  fifteen  miles  which  separate  Tangier  from 
Awara  the  two  had  halted  no  longer  than  sufficed  to 
tighten  a  girth  or  light  a  cigarette.  The  horses  were  white 
with  lather,  the  men  stained  with  dust. 

Commandant  Rattier  looked,  nodded,  and  smiled. 
For  a  sailor,  people  were  apt  to  consider  him  taciturn  — 
at  first;  but  they  soon  discovered  that  his  was  a  taci- 
turnity which  spoke.  His  brown  eyes  could  gleam  with 
many  lights  which  were  whimsically  expressive.  A  little 
sidelong  jerk  of  his  neatly  trimmed  beard  told  more  than 
many  elaborated  sentences.  Reputations  had  tottered 
and  scandals  had  been  abashed  before  a  single  gesture 
of  his  neatly  gloved  hands.  For  the  moment  his  nod 
suggested  content,  anticipation,  and  unruffled  good 
humor. 

A  minute  later  surprise  overcame  his  reticence. 
Half  a  dozen  dull,  half-muffled  explosions  throbbed  in 
the  distant  jungle  of  broom  and  wild  olive.  The  com- 
mandant's eyebrows  rose  in  arcs  of  amazement. 


16  THE    PURSUIT 

"Do  they  then  shoot  the  boar  as  well  as  impale  it?" 
he  asked. 

Aylmer  smiled. 

"The  beaters,"  he  explained.  "They  are  driving 
towards  the  plain  behind  the  marsh.  They  are  firing 
blank  charges." 

The  Frenchman  gave  a  little  laugh. 

"In  all  these  matters  you  must  remember  that  I  am  of 
an  ignorance  the  most  profound.  And  my  impudence, 
also,  must  appear  to  you  colossal.  I  am  to  allow  myself 
to  charge  with  a  spear  —  I,  who,  till  to-day,  have  never 
seen  a  wild  pig  save,  perhaps,  as  bacon ! " 

Aylmer  dropped  the  reins  upon  the  mare's  neck, 
lifted  his  hand,  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"All  things  must  have  a  beginning,  my  friend,"  he 
said.  "You  have  the  sailor's  eye  and,  no  doubt,  the 
sailor's  steady  hand.  And,  above  all,  you  ride  —  as 
sailors  do  not  always  ride.  I  have  every  reason  to  believe 
that  I  shall  be  proud  of  you  before  the  day  is  out." 

Rattier  lifted  his  shoulders  with  a  little  shrug.  He 
did  not  speak,  but  he  left  the  impression  that  he  depre- 
cated this  point  of  view,  found  the  arguments  futile,  and 
disposed  of  the  question  finally.  The  attention  of  the 
riders  was  suddenly  drawn  elsewhere. 

A  couple  of  men  emerged  into  view  from  behind  a  clump 
of  argans.  They  held  two  horses  by  the  bridles.  One 
of  them  signalled  with  outstretched  hand. 

As  Aylmer  reined  in  the  mare  almost  upon  her  haunches 
the  man  dropped  his  hand,  relinquished  the  horse  he  held 
into  the  care  of  his  companion,  and  approached.  He 
made  a  dignified  gesture  of  welcome  and  pointed  to  a 
basket  on  the  ground. 

"Sid'  Anstruther  sends  breakfast,  Sidi.    They  drive 


AT    THE    TENT    CLUB  17 

the  bush  beyond  the  hill  and  the  marsh.  If  you  will 
refresh  yourselves  here  you  will  avoid  climbing  the  hill 
to  the  camp.  You  can  then  take  these  horses  and  join 
the  spears  who  wait  at  the  tongue  of  the  jungle  in  the 
plain." 

Aylmer  slid  to  the  ground. 

"  It  is  well  thought  of,  Absalaam,"  he  said,  and  turned 
to  explain  matters  to  his  companion.  The  Moor  beck- 
oned forward  his  underling,  who  quickly  tethered  the 
fresh  horses  to  a  broom  stump  and  then  led  away  the  other 
two  in  the  direction  of  the  tents  which  gleamed  white 
upon  the  slope  a  mile  or  so  above  them.  Absalaam, 
meanwhile,  was  deftly  setting  out  the  meal  in  the  shadow 
of  the  argan  branches. 

The  two  began  to  eat  and  drink  with  appreciation  but 
quickly.  They  did  not  exchange  much  conversation; 
their  attention,  indeed,  seemed  concentrated  on  matters 
outside  sight  but  within  hearing.  For  the  muffled  ex- 
plosions continued  and  to  them  was  added  the  sound  of 
chorussed  and  intermittent  yells.  But  these  last  had 
not  risen  to  any  great  pitch  of  excitement;  no  pig,  or, 
at  any  rate,  no  boar,  had  as  yet  been  sighted  or  had 
broken  cover. 

Absalaam  flitted  to  and  fro  handing  dishes,  changing 
plates,  expressing  by  the  vigilance  of  his  attitude  and 
actions  the  fact  that  he,  too,  appreciated  the  need  for 
haste.  His  dark  eyes  beamed  a  sort  of  intensity  of  vigor ; 
the  pose  of  his  head  seemed  to  indicate  that  his  ears  were 
critically  alert  to  the  purport  of  those  distant  shouts. 
But  he  offered  no  comment  till  Aylmer  pushed  aside  his 
plate  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Your  station,  oh  Sidis,  will  be  at  the  far  side  of  the 

point  of  jungle,  between  the  marsh  and  the  forest." 

2 


i8  THE    PURSUIT 

Aylmer  nodded,  explained  to  Rattier,  and  swung  him- 
self into  the  saddle. 

"How  many  spears?"  he  asked  laconically.  The 
Moor  held  up  the  open  fingers  of  one  hand. 

"  Four,"  he  answered,  "and  a  lady,  who  rides  but  does 
not  carry  a  spear.  It  will  be  difficult  with  so  few,  but  the 
Sidis  will  find  the  horses  of  good  mettle  and  capable. 
Have  I  now  your  leave  to  go,  oh  Sidis?  It  is  desirable 
that  I  join  the  beaters." 

Aylmer  made  a  curt  motion  of  consent  and  looked 
round,  with  a  tinge  of  impatience,  for  his  companion. 
Rattier  was  daintily  flicking  a  crumb  or  two  from  his 
khaki  tunic  and  flapping  his  handkerchief  at  the  dust  on 
his  overalls.  He  mounted,  at  last,  with  a  self-satisfied 
little  shrug.  He  was  prepared  to  meet  the  world's  criti- 
cism, or  this,  at  any  rate,  was  the  implication  his  shoul- 
ders conveyed. 

With  an  air  that  was  deferential  without  being  obse- 
quious the  Moor  handed  each  rider  a  long  "under-arm" 
spear.  The  next  instant  they  had  disappeared  down  the 
ragged  track  through  the  mimosa  at  a  gallop. 

As  they  emerged  into  the  open  plain  beyond  the  stretch 
of  forest  land,  the  yells  in  the  jungle  combined  into  a  sten- 
torian chorus.  The  hidden  men  shrieked,  hollaed,  rat- 
tled their  staves,  and  in  one  or  two  instances  performed 
excited  fantasias  with  empty  sardine  tins.  Up  on  the 
slope  a  furlong  or  two  above  Aylmer  and  his  companion, 
a  woman  came  suddenly  into  view,  riding  a  dappled 
gray,  and  waving  a  handkerchief. 

They  turned  towards  her  as  another  rider,  as  yet  unseen, 
cantered  round  a  thicket  of  broom  in  the  same  direction. 
The  handkerchief  was  waved  excitedly  and  the  canter 
became  a  gallop. 


AT    THE    TENT    CLUB  19 

The  mimosa  crashed;  the  sun-dried  lop  of  wild  olive 
was  splintered.  Something  dark,  unwieldy,  menacing, 
burst  out  of  the  undergrowth  with  a  speed  which  seemed 
preposterously  out  of  proportion  to  its  bulk.  It  fled 
across  the  interval  of  sand  which  lay  between  the  strip 
of  forest  behind  it  and  the  one  from  which  Aylmer  and 
Rattier  had  just  emerged.  Emotion  perforated  the 
latter's  imperturbability.  Speech  escaped  him. 

"But  this  is  a  monster!"  he  exclaimed.  "The  near 
relation  of  a  hippopotamus ! " 

The  boar  may  have  heard  and  certainly  seemed  to 
resent  the  criticism.  He  jinked,  wheeled  from  the  direc- 
tion which  would  have  taken  him  slantingly  towards  the 
other  rider,  and  charged  the  commandant.  Nothing 
daunted,  the  latter  lowered  his  spear  and  galloped 
steadily  forward. 

He  did  not  attempt  to  lessen  his  speed  to  receive  the 
shock.  Had  his  skill,  indeed,  been  equal  to  his  spirit, 
the  result  would  never  have  been  in  doubt.  But  he  held 
his  spear  at  a  "dropping"  angle,  which  discounted  the 
force  of  speed  behind  it.  The  point,  instead  of  meeting 
the  boar's  chest  in  a  line  almost  parallel  with  the  ground, 
grazed  his  jaw,  brushed  past  his  shoulder,  and  cut  a 
shallow  groove  in  his  quarter.  It  turned  the  charge,  but 
not  far  enough.  The  wicked  eight-inch  tusks  flashed  out 
in  passing  and  gashed  the  horse's  pastern.  The  gallop 
slowed  into  a  canter,  blundered  into  a  trot,  and  became 
a  halting  limp. 

The  boar  jinked  again  and  Aylmer  spurred  in  pur- 
suit, hearing  the  hoofs  of  his  rival's  horse  thundering 
jealously  behind.  He  increased  his  speed,  diminished 
the  distance  yard  by  yard,  lowered  his  spear,  thrust,  and 
was  nearly  spilled  from  the  saddle.  With  incredible 


20  THE    PURSUIT 

quickness  the  huge  body  had  wheeled  again  as  if  on  a 
pivot. 

The  pursuers  made  a  chorus  of  their  vexation.  Their 
impetuosity  carried  them  a  full  forty  yards  past  the  line 
of  the  boar's  retreat.  They  reined  in  jerkily,  and  turned 
to  see  their  quarry  in  full  retreat  up  the  hill. 

By  good  horsemanship  Aylmer  maintained  and  in- 
creased his  lead,  but  without  much  hope  of  overhauling 
the  chase  before  the  thicket  gave  it  shelter.  The  mimosa 
covert  was  a  bare  two  furlongs  distant.  The  only  chance 
lay  in  the  boar  being  headed,  and  all  the  spears  were, 
apparently,  behind  it.  There  remained  nothing  to  do 
but  to  ride  and  ride  hard. 

His  horse  responded  bravely  to  the  touch  of  the  spur 
but  the  sand  was  loose  and  deep.  He  decreased  very 
slightly  the  distance  between  pursuer  and  pursued,  fal- 
tered once  or  twice,  and  began  to  show  distress  in  his 
breathing.  Aylmer  told  himself  that,  for  the  moment, 
the  game  was  up. 

And  then,  with  a  whirl  of  flying  drapery  and  gesticu- 
lating arms,  a  new  rider  shot  into  view  on  the  brow  of 
the  slope.  Absalaam,  calling  down  innumerable  male- 
dictions upon  the  ancestry  of  all  jungle  pigs,  galloped  a 
tent  pony  between  the  boar  and  his  refuge. 

His  tactics  were  successful,  but  not  in  the  direction 
which  he  had  desired.  The  brute  wheeled,  not  down- 
hill towards  the  other  riders,  but  slanting  back  and  still 
upwards  in  the  direction  of  Awara  and  the  camp. 

As  Aylmer  swerved  to  follow,  a  cry  startled  him.  He 
was  suddenly  aware  that  the  lady  in  white  was  riding 
slightly  behind,  but  almost  abreast  of  him.  She  was 
swathed  in  a  sand  veil,  but  her  eyes  were  uncovered 
and  the  expression  in  them  was  arresting.  She  was 


AT    THE    TENT    CLUB  ai 

staring  up  the  hill.    Her  glance  told  of  anxiety,  or  even 
horror. 

He  followed  the  direction  of  her  gaze. 

Two  figures  appeared,  both  exactly  in  the  line  of  the 
hunt.  One,  also  white  clad,  and  running  with  uncertain 
feet,  was  evidently  a  child  —  a  boy  of  six  or  seven  years. 
He  had  distanced  his  pursuer,  a  fat  and  middle-aged 
Moor,  who  was  menacing  him  with  gesticulations  of 
wrath  and  at  the  same  time  emitting  supplicating  cries. 
The  youngster  answered  him  with  triumphant  little  jeers, 
and  continued  his  escape.  At  the  same  moment  both  of 
them  saw  the  approaching  danger. 

The  child  halted,  hesitated,  and  seemed  to  debate 
upon  his  action.  Not  so  the  Moor.  With  a  howl  of  dis- 
may he  fled  towards  the  undergrowth,  his  yellow  slippers 
twinkling  against  the  dun  background  of  the  sand.  And 
he  continued  to  yell  with  whole-hearted  despair;  he  woke 
the  echoes  with  his  shrieks. 

About  fifty  yards  separated  Aylmer  from  the  boar. 
The  child  was  a  full  furlong  distant.  A  sudden  chill 
pulsed  into,  and  gripped,  the  man's  heart  as  he  realized 
the  situation. 

Again  the  woman  called  aloud  and  smote  her  horse 
furiously  across  the  withers  as  she  strove  to  urge  it  on. 
Taken  by  surprise  the  gray  changed  step,  stumbled,  and 
nearly  came  down.  With  lowered  spear  Aylmer  shot 
ahead. 

The  horse  responded  nobly  to  the  need.  The  interval 
decreased.  The  boar  was  thirty  yards  ahead  —  twenty 
—  now  no  more  than  ten.  The  wicked  little  eyes  flung 
glances  sideways;  the  bristling  withers  showed  that  al- 
most imperceptible  rippling  motion  which  presages  a 
"jink." 


22  THE    PURSUIT 

Aylmer  leaned  down  across  his  saddle,  holding  out  the 
spear  before  him  almost  by  the  butt.  He  was  yet  too  far 
to  get  in  a  thrust.  He  could  only  hope  to  divert  the 
brute's  attention  by  a  short,  pricking  stab.  For  the 
child,  now  running  with  short,  terrified  strides,  was 
immediately  in  front  of  the  gleaming  tusks. 

Aylmer  lunged  out. 

The  point  reached  and  entered  the  boar's  flank.  It 
squealed  savagely,  turned,  blundered,  and  fell  beneath 
the  horse's  hoofs.  Aylmer  felt  the  shock,  the  agonizing 
effort  at  recovery,  the  final  thud  of  the  fall.  The  horse 
tripped  and  rolled  over;  the  spear  was  torn  from  the 
rider's  grip.  Aylmer  ploughed  a  groove  in  the  sand 
which  landed  him  far  out  beyond  the  huddle  of  flying 
limbs  in  which  the  white  tusks  were  already  working 
viciously. 

He  scrambled  first  to  his  knees  and  then  to  his  feet. 
He  looked  around.  The  child  was  close  to  him,  running 
now  towards  him.  His  hands  were  outstretched;  he 
gave  little  panting  cries. 

And  then  Aylmer  experienced  that  curious  cold  sense 
of  relaxation  which  comes  to  some  men  when  the  situation 
calls  for  instant  effort.  He  saw  the  child;  he  saw  also 
the  boar,  slashing  relentlessly  a  way  out  from  the  tangle 
of  his  horse's  legs ;  he  saw  the  horsewoman  whose  reins 
were  tightening  not  twenty  yards  away.  But  here  was 
no  cause  for  hesitation  or  bewilderment.  His  mind,  to 
himself,  worked  with  a  certain  sense  of  leisure.  He 
stooped,  caught  up  the  child,  placed  him  in  the  woman's 
arms,  and  gave  her  horse  a  thrust  of  dismissal  with  his 
fist.  As  the  flying  hoofs  scattered  the  sand  upon  his 
tunic,  he  turned  to  confront  his  own  plight  without  fear, 
with,  indeed,  nothing  less  than  relief.  The  absorbing 


AT    THE    TENT    CLUB  23 

objective  of  the  last  two  minutes  being  achieved,  his 
mind  had  not  had  time  to  review  and  interpret  his  own 
danger. 

The  boar  shook  itself  free  of  entanglement,  snapped 
around  at  the  wound  in  its  flank,  swayed  a  little  and  sud- 
denly, malignantly,  focussed  its  gaze  upon  Aylmer.  It 
gave  a  grunt  of  satisfaction,  as  it  seemed.  As  if  the 
tension  of  a  hidden  spring  was  released,  it  bounded 
forward. 

Aylmer  looked  at  it  as  one  looks  at,  and  appraises,  a 
picture.  The  sense  of  his  own  peril  was  in  his  mind,  but 
latently.  He  understood  the  consequences  if  the  boar 
reached  him,  but,  owing  to  some  perverse  enravelment  of 
the  brain,  details  absorbed  him  to  the  veiling  of  all  else. 
He  noted  with  what  excellent  effect  the  crimson  smear 
upon  the  dark  flank  shone  out  against  the  dull  back- 
ground of  the  sand.  He  recognized  the  abnormal  curl  of 
the  tusks,  and  debated  to  what  angle  the  jaw  must  be 
slanted  to  deliver  the  ripping  undercut  which  experience 
told  him  he  would  receive  within  a  couple  of  seconds. 
He  saw  with  a  pang  of  regret  that  the  shaft  of  his  spear 
was  broken;  the  splintered  end  protruded  from  below 
the  withers  of  the  still  struggling  horse.  Thus  the 
picture  —  which  engrossed  him. 

And  then  it  was  gone,  blotted  out.  The  thunder  of 
hoofs,  a  rising  cloud  of  sand,  a  dark,  struggling  mass, 
which  was  the  boar  upon  its  back.  The  rider  whom  he 
had  distanced  had  passed  and  the  spear  had  got  home. 
Red  was  the  central  spot  of  this  picture,  also,  but  no  longer 
on  the  dark  flank.  It  welled  from  the  dying  animal's 
chest  in  torrents. 

As  he  watched  its  struggles,  the  sense  of  hazard  escaped 
came  home  to  him.  Fear  found  room  in  his  brain.  He 


24  THE    PURSUIT 

ran  towards  the  broken  spear,  grasped  it,  turned  to  con- 
front a  peril  which  no  longer  menaced. 

A  shudder  shook  the  swaying  body,  the  great  thews  re- 
laxed. The  boar  panted  violently  —  once  —  twice.  Then 
with  a  single  sigh,  very  gently,  very  languidly,  it  sank 
upon  the  earth.  And  so  lay  still. 

As  he  stood  staring  down  at  it,  a  reaction  against  his 
tinge  of  panic  moved  Aylmer  to  laughter.  He  began  to 
giggle  in  little  bubbling  gasps  of  mirth  which  were  near 
relations  of  hysteria.  Matters  had  gone  so  quickly  that 
his  sense  of  proportion  had  been  displaced.  First  per- 
fect equanimity,  then  sudden  and  unfounded  appre- 
hension, now  recoil.  One  short  minute  had  made  ample 
room  for  all  these  among  his  emotions.  He  found  laugh- 
ter the  only  balm  to  his  self-respect,  for  he  was  shivering 
with  a  Briton's  uneasy  sense  of  having  been  guilty  of 
melodrama. 

His  introspection  was  so  intent  that  he  failed  to  ob- 
serve the  return  of  the  lady  in  white  till  her  horse  spurned 
the  sand  upon  his  riding  boots.  Then  he  wheeled 
alertly  and  looked  up  in  her  face.  Her  veil  had  dropped. 

She  was  clasping  the  child  to  her  with  the  hand  in 
which  she  gripped  the  reins.  The  other  she  held  out  to 
him. 

"  You  saved  the  boy ! "  she  said,  in  a  quick,  panting 
whisper.  "  You  saved  him ! " 

Aylmer  took  the  proffered  hand,  lifted  his  hat,  smiled, 
and  recognized  the  lady  of  the  pier. 

He  hesitated  a  moment.    He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"No,"  he  deprecated,  and  pointed  to  the  other  spear- 
man who  was  already  wheeling  to  inspect  his  trophy. 
"  Your  thanks  are  due  to  our  friend  Despard,  if  any- 
where." 


"  You  saved  the  boy  /"  /A^  j«/</,  i»  a  quick,  panting 
PAGE  24 


AT    THE    TENT    CLUB  25 

"No!"  she  contradicted  vehemently.  "Did  I  not 
see  it?  You  were  sacrificing  yourself,  doing  it  deliber- 
ately. And  I  shall  never  forget  it  —  never ! " 

He  smiled  again.  He  looked  at  the  child  who  sat  silent 
on  the  saddle-bow,  staring  down  at  him. 

"Still  running  away?"  queried  Aylmer,  pleasantly. 
"  Whither,  this  time  ?  And  what  was  the  terrible  hurry  ?  " 

A  guilty  grin  puckered  the  little  man's  lips. 

"I  thought  I  knowed  you;  you're  the  man  of  —  of 
yesterday,"  he  shrilled.  "I  was  running  from  Selim. 
He  wanted  me  to  take  siesta,  but  I  did  wish  to  be  in 
the  hunt." 

Aylmer  nodded. 

"The  usual  trouble,"  he  said.  "We  all  want  to  be  in 
—  or,  at  any  rate,  to  see  —  the  hunt.  And  we  never  pay 
any  attention  to  Selims,  worse  luck.  You  '11  learn  more 
by  experience,  sonny." 

The  child  made  a  little  gesture  of  protest. 

"That 's  not  my  name,"  he  answered  solemnly. 
"Mother  calls  me  Jackanapes,  or  Jack.  But  I  'm  John, 
really,  just  John." 

"Just  John,"  assented  Alymer.    "Just  John  what?" 

"John  Aylmer,"  said  the  boy  and  stared  in  surprise  at 
his  new  friend's  startled  visage.  But  the  other  John 
Aylmer  was  not  looking  at  his  namesake.  He  was  look- 
ing at  the  girl  who  held  him. 

Her  eyes  answered  the  glance  gravely,  sternly,  even 
defiantly,  and  in  silence. 

"You?"  cried  Aylmer.    "You  are—  ?" 

She  hesitated. 

"John's  nurse,"  she  said,  looking  him  steadily  in  the 
face. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   SHADOW    OF   A   NAME 

FOR  a  moment  there  was  silence  between  the  two. 
Aylmer's  fingers  unconsciously  wound  and  un- 
wound a  tiny  lock  of  hair  in  the  horse's  mane.  His  eyes 
travelled  over  the  woman's  face  and  figure  appraisingly; 
his  brows  contracted  into  a  frown  of  puzzlement. 

He  had  seen  little  John  Aylmer's  mother  once  before, 
at  her  wedding  nine  years  previously.  She  had  been  a 
girl,  then,  almost  a  child,  and  young  for  her  age,  which 
was  barely  eighteen.  Her  beauty  had  been  the  fresh, 
innocent  beauU  du  diable.  She  was  fair,  blue-eyed,  with 
a  tendency  to  fragility.  And  if  report  told  the  truth, 
her  beauty  had  wasted  and  her  fragility  increased  through 
the  cruel  years  of  her  husband's  domination.  A  bare 
six  months  ago  she  had  been  freed.  Her  father's  mil- 
lions had  helped  her  to  a  separation  which  English 
Courts  had  made  a  legal  one.  They  had  also  given  her 
the  custody  of  her  one  child,  the  heir  to  the  Aylmer 
name  and  the  Landon  title. 

This  girl  was  fair,  indeed;  her  eyes  like  the  sea,  her 
color  fresh,  her  forehead  bland  and  unwrinkled.  But 
she  was  not  the  woman  whose  woes  had  made  copy  for 
a  thousand  newspapers  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic, 
whose  sufferings  had  roused  the  storm  of  execration 
which  had  made  the  honest  name  of  Aylmer  a  byword  of 
dishonor  and  reproach.  No,  this  was  not  his  cousin 
Landon's  wife. 


THE   SHADOW    OF   A    NAME          37 

And  yet? 

Feature  for  feature,  line  for  line,  she  reminded  him  of 
the  woman  whose  daintiness  he  remembered  among  the 
massed  decorations  of  that  New  York  cathedral  those 
years  ago. 

He  sought  bluntly  for  an  explanation. 

"I,  too,  am  John  Aylmer,"  he  said  quietly.  "Who 
are  you?" 

The  sudden  thrill  of  surprise  with  which  she  clutched 
the  child  to  her  tightened  the  reins.  The  gray  backed 
a  step;  it  was  as  if  horse  and  rider  were  alike  repelled 
by  his  question. 

She  stared  at  him  with  a  sudden  fierce  aversion  which 
was  undisguised. 

"You  are  Landon's  cousin  —  you?"  she  cried. 

He  bowed  his  head. 

"I  have  that  misfortune,"  he  answered  quietly. 

At  the  form  of  his  answer  a  tinge  of  relief  woke  in 
her  eyes,  but  they  still  watched  him  with  incredulity  and 
suspicion. 

" He  —  he  has  sent  you  ?"  she  demanded.  "  You  bring 
other  proposals,  or  threats?". 

He  smiled  gravely. 

"We  have  shared  nothing,  except  a  club,  he  and  I,"  he 
explained.  "I  have  not  set  eyes  on  him  for  over  a  year." 

She  still  watched  him  alertly,  debatingly,  and  still 
with  mistrust. 

"How  did  you  come  here,  and  why?"  she  asked. 

"I  am  a  member  of  the  Tent  Club,"  he  answered. 
"I  am  in  garrison  at  Gibraltar.  I  could  not  get  leave 
till  yesterday  afternoon  and  I  waited  in  Tangier  to  ac- 
company Captain  Rattier,  whose  ship  is  in  harbor. 
Have  I  sufficiently  explained  myself?" 


a8  THE    PURSUIT 

She  hesitated. 

"You  have  not  seen  your  cousin  for  over  a  year ?  Per- 
haps you  are  in  correspondence  with  him?" 

He  showed  signs  of  impatience. 

"We  have  not  exchanged  half  a  dozen  letters  in  our 
lives  ! "  he  said  emphatically. 

The  lines  of  her  face  remained  unsoftened.  Her 
fierce  grip  on  the  child's  shoulder  did  not  relax. 

"And  this  Frenchman  —  this  Captain  Rattier?"  she 
asked.  "What  of  him?" 

His  eyebrows  expressed  the  intensity  of  his  amaze- 
ment. 

"Paul  Rattier  is  my  distant  cousin,"  he  answered. 
"No  finer  gentleman  walks  the  earth."  He  paused  for 
a  moment.  "Is  it  permitted  to  inquire  why  you  suspect 
—  strangers?" 

She  did  not  answer  him.  An  abstraction,  real  or 
feigned,  seemed  to  have  seized  her.  She  stared  out  over 
his  head  into  the  distance  with  unseeing  eyes  as  if  she 
weighed  problems,  debated  evidence,  sought  conclu- 
sions. It  was  the  child  who  roused  her  into  attention. 
He  laughed,  clapped  his  hands,  and  shouted. 

"Browny  !"  he  clamored  in  delight.    "Browny  !" 

Aylmer  looked  round. 

Rattier,  leading  a  very  melancholy  and  still  bleeding 
horse,  had  approached  with  Despard.  Together  they 
were  bending  over  the  major's  trophy,  the  dead  boar. 
Behind  them  Aylmer's  horse  was  hobbling  painfully  to 
its  feet.  Despard  looked  up  and  shook  an  admonishing 
finger  at  his  acclaimer. 

"You  young  rebel !"  he  cried.  "You  want  a  good 
smacking  for  your  disobedience  ! " 

He  slipped  from  the  saddle  as  he  spoke  and  led  his 


THE    SHADOW    OF    A    NAME  29 

horse  towards  them.  He  laid  his  hand  familiarly  on 
Aylmer's  shoulder. 

"Hurt?  "he  asked. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  said  Aylmer,  and  then  looked,  with 
a  significant  lift  of  the  eyebrow,  from  Despard  to  the  gray 
horse's  rider. 

Despard's  face  showed  his  own  surprise. 

"Don't  you  know  each  other  yet?"  he  marvelled. 
"Miss  Van  Arlen  —  Captain  Aylmer." 

Uncertainty  gripped  Aylmer  again.  Landon  had  mar- 
ried a  daughter  of  Jacob  Van  Arlen,  the  millionaire.  A 
divorcee  reverted  to  her  maiden  name,  but  surely  not  to 
her  maiden  title.  But  Despard  had  said  Miss,  most  dis- 
tinctly Miss. 

With  his  usual  straightforward  instinct  to  find  the 
nearest  way  to  probe  a  mystery,  he  looked  at  the  girl 
herself.  He  became  aware  that  her  eyes  had  been  upon 
his  face  with  intentness. 

"Yes,"  she  said  quietly.  "This,"  she  patted  the 
child's  shoulder,  "is  my  nephew." 

He  gave  a  little  sigh  of  appreciation  and,  he  scarcely 
knew  why,  of  relief.  It  was  not  possible,  of  course,  that 
this  girl,  whose  whole  poise  and  carriage  spoke  of  reso- 
lution and  unfettered  self-command,  could  be  the  woman, 
broken  in  health  and  spirit,  who  had  cowered  before  her 
husband's  glance,  so  some  of  the  baser  journals  had 
hinted,  even  when  she  was  seeking  and  had  received  the 
law's  protection  from  him. 

And  her  eyes  ?  They  were  not  of  that  appealing  blue 
which  had  shone  beneath  the  bride's  deep  lashes  on  that 
half-forgotteri  wedding-day.  They  were  blue,  indeed,  but 
they  met  his  with  something  which  was  akin  to  defiance. 

She  did  not  explain  herself,  but  her  glance  was  that 


30  THE    PURSUIT 

of  one  who  needed  no  warrant  for  her  demeanor.  Her 
attitude  was  not  one  of  blatant  aggressiveness,  but  was 
undoubtedly  distrustful. 

He  looked  at  the  child  with  renewed  interest. 

"Your  sister  is  —  where?"  he  asked  quickly. 

The  frown  came  swiftly  back  to  her  forehead. 

"You  ask  me  that?    Why?"  she  demanded. 

He  looked  at  the  boy. 

"Naturally  I  thought  she  might  be  with  you,"  he  an- 
swered. "As  an  Aylmer  I  should  be  glad  to  meet  her." 

"Ah  !"  Her  tone  was  hard  and  suspicious  again. 
Unconsciously  she  gripped  the  child  to  her  again  with 
a  fierceness  which  made  him  protest. 

"You  hurt !"  he  complained.  "You  hurt,  and  I  want 
to  see  the  boar." 

With  a  sailor's  instinctive  fondness  for  children, 
Rattier,  who  had  resigned  his  limping  horse  into  the 
hands  of  one  of  the  Arab  beaters,  turned  towards  him. 

"May  I  be  permitted?"  he  said  simply,  and  held  out 
his  arms.  The  child  made  a  restless  little  movement 
towards  him.  "He  '11  show  it  me  !"  he  cried  joyously. 
"He'll  take  me!" 

Again  she  reined  back,  looking  from  one  to  the  other 
with  patent  misgiving. 

"No  !"  she  cried  sharply.  "You  shall  not  touch  him, 
either  of  you  ! "  She  made  an  appealing  gesture  towards 
Despard.  "You  must  see  me  back  to  the  camp  !"  she 
said. 

He  was  smiling  with  tranquil  amusement,  a  smile 
which  seemed  to  rouse  her  to  anger. 

"Let  us  go  now,  at  once  !"  she  said,  and  wheeled  her 
horse. 

Despard  nodded,  but  did  not  dismiss  the  smile. 


THE    SHADOW    OF   A   NAME  31 

"Might  I  inform  you  that  Aylmer  has  been  my  friend 
since  our  Sandhurst  days,  and  that  I  have  shared  his  in- 
timacy with  Commandant  Rattier  for  the  last  five  years  ? 
I  can  vouch  for  them;  I  really  can." 

She  reined  in  her  horse  again  and  sat  looking  at  all 
three  with  doubt  still  lurking  in  her  eyes.  Aylmer  met  her 
expression  with  unrestrained  amazement.  He  found  her 
mistrust  of  him  a  conundrum  to  which  there  was  no 
answer.  The  Frenchman's  shoulders  rose  and  fell  al- 
most imperceptibly.  His  head  was  slanted  with  defer- 
ential acquiescence.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  Aylmer's 
arm. 

"Your  horse?"  he  interposed. 

He  pointed  to  it  and  to  Absalaam,  who  had  now  ar- 
rived and  was  touching  the  wounds  in  its  flank  with 
delicate,  probing  fingers.  The  commandant's  gesture 
seemed  to  imply  that  the  situation  in  which  they  found 
themselves  demanded  a  tactful  retreat,  and  that  here  he 
indicated  a  dignified  one. 

Aylmer  still  hesitated.  He  saw  no  reason  why  he 
should  concur  in  his  own  dismissal;  the  idea  grated  on 
him.  What  had  he  done  ? 

It  was  Despard  who  took  the  edge  of  restraint  off  the 
situation.  He  swung  himself  back  into  the  saddle,  and 
pointed  up  the  hill. 

"After  all,  the  thing  was  a  squeak,"  he  allowed.  "You 
are  shaken."  He  turned  and  nodded  slightly  to  the  other 
two.  "I  will  return  and  help  with  the  horses;  we  shall 
have  no  other  beat  to-day." 

They  smiled,  bowed  to  his  companion,  and  gave  him 
answering  nod.  They  understood.  He  was  going  to 
use  the  opportunity  to  sponsor  them.  Then  he  would 
return,  and  they  would  have  their  explanation.  They 


32  THE    PURSUIT 

watched  him  bend  towards  his  companion  as  they  rode 
away. 

"It  is  almost  as  if  we  diffused  a  contagion,  you  and 
I,"  speculated  Rattier  as  they  turned  to  Absalaam  and 
the  horses,  but  Aylmer  made  no  effort  to  elaborate  the 
issue.  An  inexplicable  instinct  to  make  the  incident  a 
personal  rather  than  a  general  one  had  overtaken  him. 
As  he  watched  Despard  ride  away  with  his  companion, 
he  felt  almost  as  if  he  were  being  defrauded.  The  rela- 
tions between  his  cousin  and  her  sister  made  a  tie  be- 
tween Miss  Van  Arlen  and  himself;  surely,  in  spite  of 
everything,  they  were  sufficient  foundation  upon  which 
to  found  something  more  than  a  mere  acquaintanceship. 
In  the  name  of  all  the  other  decent-minded,  clean-living 
Aylmers,  he  might  have  been  allowed  to  make  his  and 
their  protest  against  being  held  responsible  for  the 
knaveries  of  the  head  of  their  house. 

So  it  was  with  something  of  dissatisfaction  in  his  aspect 
that  he  turned  to  Absalaam  and  the  wounded  horse.  The 
Moor  saw  it  but  misunderstood  its  purport. 

"Merely  a  flesh  wound,  Sidi,"  he  hastened  to  assure 
Aylmer.  "A  week,  perhaps  ten  days,  of  rest  and  he  is 
himself  again.  A  small  price  to  pay  for  so  precious  a 
thing  as  that  child's  life." 

Aylmer  looked  at  him  with  tolerant  amusement.  Ab- 
salaam ibn  Said  had  neither  harem  nor  wife;  his  career 
had  been  notoriously  one  of  unrest  and  adventure. 
These  pious  opinions  issued  oddly  from  his  bachelor 
lips. 

"A  small  price  indeed,"  he  agreed  pleasantly,  "but  a 
hundred  youngsters  run  risks  little  less  in  the  S6k  of 
Tangier  every  day." 

The  Moor  made  a  sweeping  motion  of  the  hand,  as 


THE    SHADOW    OF    A    NAME  33 

if  he  suddenly  dropped  the  subject  of  conversation  from 
a  higher  plane  to  a  lower. 

"The  children  of  the  Sok!"  he  cried  contemptuously. 
"Khabyles  —  Arabs  —  Susi  —  Riffs!  What  are  they? 
Little  more  than  vermin ;  their  ranks  are  replenished  all 
too  quickly  as  it  is !  But  this  one !  Here  we  tell  a  dif- 
ferent story,  do  we  not  ?  " 

Aylmer  halted  in  his  examination  of  the  wounded 
pastern  and  looked  up.  There  was  something  arresting 
in  the  Moor's  vehemence. 

Absalaam  caught  the  look  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"The  Sidi  has  not  visited  Tangier  for  five  or  six 
weeks?"  he  said. 

Aylmer  nodded.  And  waited.  He  had  had  a  good 
deal  of  experience  of  the  Moor  and  his  conversational 
methods.  He  was  aware  that  the  deferring  of  a  climax 
till  it  could  be  launched  on  a  tide  of  tantalization  was 
the  chiefest  of  them. 

"Therefore,  Sid'  Aylmer,"  continued  the  Moor,  "you 
have  not  heard  all  the  tales  which  center  round  this 
small  one's  fortunes?" 

Aylmer  smiled  and  prepared  to  give  his  attention 
again  to  his  horse.  It  was  left  to  Rattier  to  ruin  the 
pyramid  of  stimulation. 

"What  tales?"  he  demanded  laconically. 

Absalaam's  brown  eyes  met  both  question  and  ques- 
tioner with  melancholy  —  almost,  indeed,  with  scorn. 
How  could  one  titillate,  how  could  one  embroider,  how 
could  one  work  up  to  a  brave  display  of  interest,  if  bald 
facts  were  to  be  wrung  from  one  at  this  stage  of  a  tale  ? 
He  sighed. 

"Tales  of  his  wealth  and  importance,  Sidi,"  he  an- 
swered, in  accents  of  subjection. 

3 


34  THE    PURSUIT 

Rattier  drew  up  the  monocle  which  swung  from  a 
ribbon  at  his  buttonhole  and  concentrated  his  stare  upon 
the  Moor. 

"Wealth?"  he  repeated  tersely. 

Absalaam  opened  his  arms  to  their  widest  and  held 
his  palms  emptily  outflung. 

"Wealth  sufficient  to  buy  all  Tangier,  all  Fez,  the 
whole  of  Mogrheb  al  Acksa,  if  a  tenth  of  the  reports  be 
true.  His  life,  therefore?  How  can  one  value  it!" 

He  beamed  upon  them.  He  had  been  robbed  of  his 
slowly  forged  culmination,  but  he  had,  at  least,  been 
able  to  offer  them  a  surprise. 

Aylmer  replaced  upon  the  ground  the  hoof  which  he 
had  been  holding.  He  looked  at  the  Moor  good-humor- 
edly. 

"So  the  gossip  mongers  of  the  S6k  credit  this  infant 
with  riches?"  he  said.  "On  what  evidence,  if  any  ?  " 

Absalaam  made  a  motion  towards  the  sea. 

"In  the  harbor,  when  you  landed,  did  you  observe  a 
yacht,  Sidi  —  a  white  boat,  with  lines  of  gold  at  her 
cutwater  and  figurehead?" 

"Yes." 

"That  boat  lies  there  at  the  service  of  that  child. 
They  have  taken  for  him  the  Villa  Eulalia;  they  have 
surrounded  it  with  tents  of  men  who  are  there  to  do  no 
more  than  guard  his  safety;  there  are  servants,  horses, 
donkeys.  The  Gibraltar  steamer  brings  packets  of  pro- 
visions or  what  not  several  times  a  week.  In  the  town 
their  money  flows." 

Rattier  dropped  his  eyeglass. 

"I  think,  mon  ami,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  gold  must 
be  freer  with  them  than  gratitude.  Were  you  thanked 
for  what  you  did?  I  don't  seem  to  remember  it." 


THE    SHADOW    OF    A    NAME  35 

Aylmer  shook  his  head. 

"That  is  the  mystery,"  he  agreed.  "I  did  little 
enough,  but  I  was  going  to  be  thanked  —  till  I  disclosed 
my  name.  Then,"  he  shrugged  his  shoulders,  "you  saw." 

He  meditated  a  minute.    Then  he  burst  out  laughing. 

"I  was  not  allowed  even  to  hold  him,  and  I  am  not 
at  all  sure  that  I  am  not  his  guardian  ! "  he  said  suddenly. 

Rattier's  surprise  was  evident,  but  he  managed  to 
concentrate  it  in  a  monosyllable. 

"Eh?"  he  demurred  wonderingly. 

Aylmer  gave  an  emphatic  nod  of  the  head. 

"I  was  coming  home  from  China  at  the  time  of  the 
marriage  of  my  cousin  Landon  with  this  child's  mother. 
I  broke  my  journey  in  New  York  specially  to  attend  it. 
And  Landon,  merely  as  a  form,  asked  me  as  his  kinsman 
to  be  a  party  to  his  settlement.  In  certain  circumstances, 
including  his  death,  I  was  to  be  one  of  the  trustees  for 
his  children. 

"And  he  is  dead,  this  cousin?" 

"  No,  my  friend.  Merely  divorced.  Where  do  I  come 
in  —  where?" 


CHAPTER  IV 

DESPARD   EXPLAINS 

lUPPOSE  we  sit  down  long  enough  to  smoke  a 
cigarette,"  suggested  Aylmer.  "Perhaps  the  thump 
I  received  just  now  has  had  a  disastrous  effect  upon 
my  limited  intelligence,  but  I  confess  that  Miss  Van 
Arlen's  deportment  remains  a  matter  of  mystery.  What 
have  I  done?" 

Despard  laughed  gently.  He  had  strolled  back  from 
the  camp  to  meet  his  friends  and  had  found  them  super- 
intending the  obsequies  of  the  boar.  These  were  per- 
formed by  a  Spaniard,  one  of  the  human  jetsam  cast  up 
everywhere  along  the  North  African  coast  by  tides  of 
hazard  and  adventure  which  set  from  every  quarter  of 
the  Mediterranean.  The  true  son  of  Islam  will  not 
touch  the  hcdoof,  the  unclean  jungle  pig.  And  so  Senor 
Bernardo  Albareda,  penniless  derelict  and  strongly  sus- 
pected of  being  a  fugitive  from  the  Spanish  convict 
establishment  at  Melilla,  was  extracting  the  tusks.  He 
held  them  up  with  a  dramatic  gesture  of  admiration. 

"Twice  the  length  of  my  central  finger,  which  is  not 
a  short  one ! "  he  remarked  airily,  and  used  the  occasion 
to  exhibit  the  elegances  of  a  hand  which  had  patently 
not  occupied  itself  lately  with  manual  toil.  One  or  two 
of  his  compatriots,  who  had  been  among  the  beaters, 
were  given  the  task  of  disposing  of  the  flesh  and  bristles, 
and  departed  under  his  escort,  carrying  their  burdens 
dependent  from  a  couple  of  poles,  the  Arabs  hastening 


DESPARD    EXPLAINS  37 

to  avoid  even  the  shadow  of  contamination  which  they 
cast,  and  spitting  with  undisguised  disfavor  as  they 
passed.  Despard  accepted  his  comrade's  invitation  and 
joined  the  other  two  upon  the  seat  which  they  had  made 
of  a  fallen  mimosa  stump  in  the  shadow  of  the  olive. 

The  major  took  out  his  cigarette  case,  found  a  match, 
and  sent  several  tiny  clouds  rolling  up  among  the  branches 
before  he  spoke.  And  his  answer  was  another  question. 

"You  read  the  details  of  the  Landon  divorce  case?" 
he  hazarded. 

"Yes,"  said  Aylmer.    "One  could  hardly  escape  it." 

"You  remember,  then,  that  at  the  close  the  respon- 
dent was  very  nearly  committed  for  contempt  of  court?" 

"He  lost  his  temper,  or  his  head,"  agreed  Aylmer, 
"and  threatened  his  wife.  I  don't  think  any  one  at- 
tached much  importance  to  his  vaporings." 

"Ah!"  Despard  nodded  his  head  thoughtfully.  "I 
suppose  that  would  be  the  point  of  view  with  most 
people. " 

"Not  with  yourself?"  suggested  Aylmer. 

Despard  shook  his  head. 

"I  have  known  the  Van  Arlens  for  many  years,"  he 
said  quietly.  "Perhaps  you  have  forgotten  that  my  own 
mother  was  an  American,  that  a  good  deal  of  my  boy- 
hood was  passed  in  New  York." 

"I  didn't  know  you  knew  the  Van  Arlens;  in  fact, 
I  could  hardly  suspect  it,  when  to  the  best  of  my  remem- 
brance you  never  even  discussed  the  Landon  divorce 
case  with  me." 

Despard  nodded. 

"No,"  he  said,  in  a  dry,  unemotional  voice.  "I  did 
not  discuss  it  with  any  one.  And  you,  moreover,  were 
an  Aylmer." 


38  THE    PURSUIT 

He  was  silent  for  a  minute  and  the  other  two  looked 
at  him  a  little  curiously.  This  was  not  the  Despard 
they  were  accustomed  to,  a  sportsman  whose  hobbies 
engrossed  him  to  the  exclusion  of  most  other  topics. 
This  was  a  man  who  had  the  force  of  pent  feeling  behind 
his  words. 

"The  Van  Arlens  naturally  did  not  seek  outside 
society  at  the  time  of  the  case,"  he  continued,  "but  I 
was  on  leave,  and  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  them.  Has  it 
occurred  to  you,"  he  added  suddenly,  "that  this  child 
is  not  only  heir  to  the  Landon  title  but  to  the  Van  Arlen 
millions  —  at  present  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Aylmer,  "but  I  suppose  he  is  the  only 
direct  male  descendant." 

"Do  you  realize  what  that  means  in  America  ?    To  be 
a  Landon,  only  a  barony,  though  I  grant  you  an  old  one, 
is  a  small  thing  compared  with  being  the  grandson  of  - 
the  richest  man  in  the  world." 

Aylmer  was  silent.  The  point  of  view  was  one  that 
did  not  easily  present  itself  to  his  British  complacency. 
Rattier,  too,  though  he  nodded  assent,  did  it  without 
vehemence  and  with  a  tinge  of  reserve.  Of  a  royalist 
clique,  transatlantic  caste  was  outside  his  experience. 

"At  any  rate  your  cousin  Landon  realized  it  at  last 
in  realizing  what  he  was  losing.  He  moved  every  legal 
lever  he  could  lay  his  hands  upon  to  retain  the  custody 
of  his  child  and  failed.  He  is  to  see  him  twice  a  year, 
for  an  hour.  You  will  understand  that  his  chances  of 
winning  his  child's  profitable  affections  are  too  limited 
for  his  taste." 

Aylmer's  brows  met  in  a  tiny  frown  of  perplexity. 

"Profitable  affection?"  he  meditated. 

"John  is  eight.     In  thirteen  years  he  will  be  of  age. 


DESPARD    EXPLAINS  39 

His  father  then  will  be  forty-five,  and  quite  capable  of 
getting  much  enjoyment  out  of  his  son's  unlimited 
income." 

Rattier  gave  a  little  hissing  intake  of  the  breath. 

"This  Landon!"  he  murmured  admiringly. 

"The  Court  decided,  also,  that  the  child  must  be 
brought  up,  for  nine  months  of  every  year,  at  any  rate, 
in  England.  This  was  modified,  after  medical  exam- 
ination and  certificate,  to  include  Europe  and  North 
Africa." 

Aylmer  made  a  little  startled  motion  which  dropped 
the  ash  of  his  cigarette  upon  his  knee. 

"  Eh  ?  "  he  questioned.     "  Medical  certificate  ?  " 

"Phthisis,"  rejoined  Despard,  quietly.  "The  little  chap 
has  the  seeds  of  it,  but  with  care  the  seeds  need  never 
come  to  growth.  But  he  has  to  winter  in  the  South, 
invariably." 

Rattier  made  a  tiny  caressing  motion  of  the  hand  which 
seemed  to  imply  infinite  commiseration.  Aylmer  ex- 
pressed the  same  emotion  in  a  little  inarticulate  murmur. 

"And  so  —  ?"  he  questioned.    "And  so  —  ?" 

"And  so  Tangier,"  said  Despard,  "which  has  other 
conveniences,  for  the  moneyed.  The  law,  here,  is  always 
behind  the  dollars,  is  it  not?" 

The  other  two  looked  at  him  debatingly. 

"The  law?"  mused  Aylmer.    "The  law?" 

"They  have  already  had  experience  of  it  in  Italy  and 
Spain  —  the  Van  Arlens.  A  man  like  Landon  can 
make  use  of  it  there  to  further  his  own  purposes,  against 
the  law.  The  Spanish  and  Italian  police?  Can  you 
expect  them  to  interfere  against  a  man's  dealings  with 
his  own  child?  What  do  they  know  of  the  fiats  of  the 
British  Courts  of  Chancery?  He  made  two  very  nearly 


40  THE    PURSUIT 

successful  attempts  to  get  possession  of  the  boy,  —  one 
at  San  Remo,  one  at  Taormina." 

Aylmer  gave  a  little  low  whistle  of  comprehension. 
Rattier  nodded,  still  with  a  sort  of  grudging  admiration 
of  this  English  lord's  talents  and  persistence. 

"Have  you  got  it  now?"  went  on  Despard.  "Do 
you  see  where  they  stand?  Here,  under  the  protec- 
tions of  the  Bashaw,  where  Landon  can  never  overbid 
them,  they  enjoy  a  security  which  they  can  obtain 
nowhere  else  outside  America  or  Great  Britain." 

Aylmer's  eyes  filled  with  a  sudden  shadow  of  loathing. 

"The  scoundrel ! "  he  cried.    "The  miscreant ! " 

Despard  nodded. 

"Quite  so,"  he  agreed.  "The  epithets  any  decent- 
minded  man  would  apply  to  him.  Unfortunately,  he  i» 
without  shame,  reckless,  and  heedless  of  everything  but 
his  passionate  desire  to  turn  defeat  into  victory.  He 
will  stop  at  nothing  to  get  even  with  those  who  have  so 
far  triumphed  over  him." 

"And  the  boy's  mother  lives  here  —  with  her  sister?" 
said  Aylmer. 

Despard  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.  There  was  a 
queer  pause  and  catch  in  his  voice  as  if  he  sought  un^ 
easily  for  breath. 

"Miss  Van  Arlen  is  here,  and  the  old  man,  Jacob  Van 
Arlen,  the  grandfather." 

"And  the  mother?"  asked  Aylmer,  with  a  note  of 
surprise  in  his  voice.  "Lady  Landon,  or  does  one  call 
her  Mrs.  Van  Arlen?" 

"She  is  broken  down  in  health,"  answered  Despard, 
in  a  curiously  wooden,  expressionless  accent.  "  She  has 
been  —  recommended  to  try  for  at  least  six  months  the 
effects  of  an  Alpine  Sanatorium." 


DESPARD    EXPLAINS  41 

The  two  listeners  understood,  or  thought  they  under- 
stood, and  muttered  their  sympathy  in  an  almost  in- 
audible chorus. 

"  Insane  ?  "  they  whispered.    "  Insane  ?  " 

Despard  smote  his  hand  down  upon  the  rotting  wood. 

"No!"  he  cried  fiercely.  "Her  brain  is  as  sound  as 
yours  or  mine,  but  her  heart  has  been  frozen.  By  God ! 
Try  to  think,  imagine,  if  you  can,  what  hell  a  woman 
has  lived  in  who  was  the  wife  of  Landon ! " 

His  passion  seemed  to  choke  him.  His  eyes  glowed, 
his  chest  heaved,  he  was  another  man  from  the  one 
who  had  sat  down  smilingly  to  smoke  a  cigarette  with 
them  a  few  minutes  before.  And  the  passion  of  his 
wrath  infected  his  hearers.  Imagination  painted  pictures 
in  their  brains;  they,  too,  breathed  a  little  faster  as  they 
listened. 

The  gust  of  Despard 's  passion  passed  and  left  him 
calm  again.  He  gave  a  tiny  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 
which  seemed  to  imply  apology.  He  began  to  speak 
with  ordinary  unshaken  accents. 

"It  was  I  who  suggested  Tangier  to  the  Van  Arlens. 
I  am  in  garrison  at  Gibraltar;  I  can  see  them  at  fre- 
quent intervals;  I  introduced  them  to  the  Foreign 
Colony  here.  The  Anstruthers  have  done  their  best  to 
make  them  at  home.  I  got  Absalaam  to  be  their  drago- 
man, and  I  don't  think  you  will  find  a  better  or  more 
versatile  one  between  Tripoli  and  Mogador.  They  have 
the  most  suitable  villa  outside  the  town.  The  Bashaw 
has  been  given  to  understand  the  situation,  has  been 
generously  tipped,  and  is  doing  his  best  to  keep  his 
side  of  the  bargain.  The  men  who  guard  them  are 
picked  and  know  that  matters  will  reach  an  extreme  of 
unpleasantness  for  them  if  their  vigilance  is  allowed  to 


4a  THE    PURSUIT 

relax.  All  has  been  done  that  can  be  done.  And  yet  —  ?  " 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders  again.  "They  share  the 
anxieties  of  Damocles,"  he  added.  "They  live  under  a 
sword  which  may  fall  at  any  moment." 

He  rose,  flicked  the  cigarette  ash  from  his  sleeve,  and 
made  a  motion  towards  the  hill. 

"Shall  we  be  getting  on?"  he  asked.  "The  sun  waits 
for  no  one." 

They  rose  slowly  and  began  to  follow  the  distant  line 
of  beaters.  Aylmer  linked  his  hand  through  Despard's 
arm. 

"Miss  Van  Arlen  understood  .  .  .  what  we  feel  .  .  . 
all  we  Aylmers,  about  Landon?"  he  asked. 

Despard  hesitated. 

"I  put  it  to  her,  strongly,"  he  answered. 

There  was  something  not  entirely  convinci«g  in  the 
reply.  Aylmer's  voice  showed  anxiety. 

"  But  —  but  she  cannot  imagine  that  we,  or  any 
decent-minded  man,  could  view  him  with  anything  but 
loathing?" 

There  was  still  a  perceptible  pause  before  Despard's 
reply. 

"I  didn't  tell  her  yesterday  that  you  were  coming," 
he  said.  "Indeed,  Anstruther  only  informed  me  last 
night.  I  thought  it  would  be  well  that  you  should  arrive 
and  make  a  good  impression  before  she  learned  your 
name.  Then,  you  see,  as  it  happened,  you  exploded  it 
on  her  rather  startlingly.  And  she,  at  the  time,  was 
rather  shaken." 

"And  this  means —  ?"  said  Aylmer,  impatiently. 

"It  means,"  answered  Despard,  debatingly,  "that  your 
name  recalls  memories  to  her  which,  unfortunately,  do 
not  prepossess  you  in  her  favor.  And,  I  think,  that, 


DESPARD    EXPLAINS  43 

being  a  woman  .  .  .  your  service  to  the  child  .  .  .  your 
saving  of  him  .  .  .  under  the  circumstances  .  .  .  acted 
against  you." 

Aylmer  turned  and  looked  into  his  friend's  face  with 
amazement. 

"But  —  but  I  don't  understand!"  he  stammered. 
"That's  unjust!" 

Despard  shook  his  head. 

"Not  entirely,"  he  demurred.  "It's  feminine;  it's 
jealousy.  It  is  hard  to  her  that  you  should  have  saved 
fhe  child's  life.  I  could  see  that,  and  combated  it, 
during  the  few  minutes  in  which  we  rode  back  to  camp." 

Aylmer  was  frowning.  He  dropped  Despard's  arm, 
thrust  his  own  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  stared  out 
into  the  distance.  He  shook  his  head. 

"No!"  he  said  suddenly.  "I  can't  quite  follow  it. 
No  woman  with  that  girl's  .  .  .  eyes  .  .  .  would  be  so 
.  .  .  shabby  ...  if  she  understood ! " 

Rattier  gave  him  an  impulsive  little  nod. 

"If?"  he  enunciated  slowly.    "If?" 

Despard  threw  the  Frenchman  a  grateful  glance. 

"That's  it,"  he  agreed.  "His  name  is  Aylmer.  So 
far  she  has  not  got  beyond  that  fact,  my  friend." 

Aylmer  looked  round  at  them  both.  There  was  some- 
thing calculating  in  the  way  in  which  he  surveyed  the 
two,  as  if  they  were  factors  in  a  situation  which  had 
hitherto  eluded  him,  but  which  was  now  beginning  to 
take  definite  shape.  And  his  lips  had  set  one  upon  the 
other  in  a  rigid  line.  His  chin  seemed  to  have  attained 
incongruous  squareness  beneath  the  suave  droop  of  his 
moustache. 

"She  's  got  to  believe  in  me!"  he  announced  grimly. 
"I  won't  let  her  be  unworthy  of  herself." 


44  THE    PURSUIT 

And  the  other  two  noticed  that  as  he  said  it  he  nodded 
to  himself  two  or  three  times  decidedly.  He  drew  him- 
self up;  unconsciously  his  carriage  grew  stiffer.  It  was 
as  if  he  had  mapped  out  and  settled  a  matter  definitely. 
He  began  to  talk  and  laugh  naturally,  and  on  other 
subjects.  And  if  any  allusion  to  the  day's  adventure 
outcropped  into  the  conversation  he  did  not  avoid  it, 
but  simply  passed  it  by  without  comment.  He  had 
taken  his  line.  The  incident,  apart  from  his  resolution, 
was  closed. 

As  the  three  strolled  up  to  the  camp  a  man  rose  from 
the  group  which  sat  in  the  shadow  of  the  awning  at 
the  door  of  the  largest  tent  and  came  out  to  meet  them. 
He  was  tall,  white-haired,  aquiline  of  feature.  And  his 
pervading  characteristic  seemed  to  be  gravity.  His 
figure  and  face  alike  were  unbending. 

He  made  them  a  studied  little  bow. 

"My  daughter  tells  me,  Captain  Aylmer,"  he  said, 
"that  I  have  to  thank  you  for  your  prompt  action  on 
behalf  of  my  grandson.  You  saved  him  from  a  situation 
of  grave  peril." 

Aylmer  realized  that  this  was  without  doubt  Jacob 
Van  Arlen.  He  suspected,  also,  why  the  old  man  had 
thus  addressed  him  without  waiting  for  an  introduction. 
For  men  who  are  introduced,  amid  the  intimate  socia- 
bilities of  the  Tangier  Tent  Club,  at  any  rate,  usually 
shake  hands.  Van  Arlen 's  right  hand  held  his  sombrero; 
his  left  was  at  his  side. 

Aylmer  returned  the  bow. 

"I  did  no  more  than  what  had  obviously  to  be  done," 
he  said  quietly.  "Despard  merits  your  thanks  more 
than  I." 


DESPARD    EXPLAINS      •  45 

The  other  looked  at  the  major  with  a  distinct  tinge  of 
relief. 

"Is  that  so?"  he  asked  hopefully. 

"No!"  said  Despard,  laconically.  "Your  thanks  are 
not  in  the  least  misdirected,  Mr.  Van  Arlen." 

The  old  man  made  another  courteous  inclination  of 
the  head. 

"I  thought  I  could  not  so  far  have  misunderstood  my 
daughter,"  he  answered.  "I  hope,  Captain  Aylmer,  that 
while  you  remain  in  Tangier  I  may  be  permitted  to  serve 
you  in  any  way  which  you  like  to  command.  Perhaps, 
though,  your  stay  is  short?" 

And  there  was  hopefulness  in  this  last  query.  It  was 
patent  amid  the  studied  urbanity  of  the  tone.  In  spite 
of  himself  Aylmer  smiled. 

"I  am  a  bird  of  passage,"  he  said  lightly.  "I  manage 
to  take  short  leave  for  most  of  the  Tent  Club  meetings, 
to  which  Colonel  Anstruther  is  kind  enough  to  make  me 
welcome." 

He  strode  forward  as  he  spoke  and  began  to  exchange 
greetings  with  Mrs.  Anstruther,  who  rose  to  meet  him. 
He  had  to  hear  the  morning's  story  re-discussed,  ex- 
claimed over,  criticized.  He  bore  it,  without  impatience, 
but  with  a  certain  aloofness  which  gave  the  subject  no 
chance  to  endure.  He  managed  skilfully,  at  last,  to 
divert  the  conversation  into  other  channels. 

Anstruther,  who  had  sat  between  his  wife  and  Miss 
Van  Arlen,  had  risen  to  welcome  Commandant  Rattier. 
The  mishap  to  the  latter's  horse  engrossed  their  atten- 
tion ;  they  wandered  off  together  to  examine  the  wounded 
limb.  After  a  moment's  hesitation  Aylmer  sank  into  the 
vacant  chair. 

He  looked  round  at  the  girl.     Her  eyes  met  his,  but 


46  THE    PURSUIT 

her  hand,  as  if  acting  by  some  automatic  command  of 
the  brain,  touched  her  skirt  and  pulled  it  toward  herself, 
and  away  from  him.  His  lips  grew  a  thought  more  rigid 
behind  the  veiling  moustache.  But  his  voice  was  entirely 
divested  of  any  semblance  of  pique. 

"And  how  is  my  small  cousin?"  he  asked  pleasantly. 
"Has  Selim  persuaded  him  to  take  that  long-deferred 
siesta?" 

Old  Van  Arlen  stirred  restlessly  on  his  seat.  He  looked 
at  Aylmer,  his  lips  moved  as  if  to  speech,  and  then 
closed  again.  Miss  Van  Arlen  sat  up  very  straight. 

"Do  you  mean  my  nephew?"  she  asked  frigidly. 

"Your  nephew  and  my  cousin,"  said  Aylmer,  cheer- 
fully. "I  hardly  expected  to  find  a  relation  here  when  I 
started  this  morning." 

Her  eyes  grew  stormy  with  suspicion,  almost  with 
hate. 

"Are  you  sure?"  she  demanded  suddenly. 

"Quite  sure,"  said  Aylmer,  halting  for  a  scarcely  per- 
ceptible moment  before  her  meaning  reached  him.  "I 
have  found  only  friends  —  so  far." 


CHAPTER  V 

MR.    MILLER 

OUTSIDE  their  own  country  two  British  types 
carry  their  caste  marks  patently.  They  are  the 
tourist  and  the  officer.  Gibraltar  abounds  with  both, 
the  company  of  the  first  having  an  occasional  and  tran- 
sient superiority  when  it  is  swollen  by  Transatlantic 
arrivals  or  intermittent  yachting  cruisers.  But  the  officers 
of  the  garrison  and  their  wives  and  daughters  are  the 
reigning  members  of  the  informal  club  which  makes 
Society  on  the  Rock.  They  know  each  other,  they  dis- 
cuss each  other ;  the  longer  they  stay  the  more  parochial 
grow  their  interests.  Newcomers  undergo  a  period  of 
silent  probation.  They  cannot  slip  in  unobserved.  The 
who  and  the  whence  test  is  applied  to  each  with  unction, 
sometimes  without  justice,  but  almost  invariably  with 
good-humor.  As  a  consequence  everybody,  within 
limits,  knows  something  about  everybody  else. 

There  are  exceptions,  and  one,  an  olive-complexioned, 
gray-clad,  gray-haired,  dark-eyed  man,  was  walking 
steadily  down  the  Waterport  one  sunny  afternoon  as  a 
rush  of  cabs  towards  the  custom-house  proclaimed  the 
incoming  of  an  important  steamer.  Mr.  William  Miller 
had  a  pleasantly  situated  cottage  in  the  South  Town. 
The  postman  knew  that  he  had  many  correspondents 
in  Spain,  England,  Germany,  and  elsewhere.  Moorish 
visitors  from  across  the  straits  were  not  infrequent  at  a 
small  office  which  he  retained  in  Waterport  Street.  Men 


48  THE    PURSUIT 

of  letters,  desiring  information  on  recondite  subjects, 
separated  themselves  from  the  frivolous  landing  parties 
of  Messrs.  Cook  and  called  at  the  same  address.  No 
one  had  ever  tapped  the  sources  of  Mr.  Miller's  encyclo- 
paedic knowledge  in  vain.  No  one  had  found  him  other- 
wise than  affable.  And  though  it  was  understood  that 
his  activities  were  literary,  no  resident  or  tourist  had 
successfully  probed  the  nature  of  his  life-work. 

The  wives  of  many  colonels  had  recognized  this  and 
had  flung  themselves  with  ardor  against  the  breastworks 
of  his  imperturbability.  Not  one  of  them  could  look 
back  with  pride  on  any  action  in  which  they  had  won 
even  a  temporary  advantage.  Mr.  Miller  spoke  freely, 
showed  an  intimate  knowledge  of  men  and  manners 
throughout  the  civilized  world,  and  appeared  to  mani- 
fest pleasure  in  sociabilities.  His  only  attempts  to  re- 
turn these  lay  in  small  but  eclectic  tea-parties  whereat 
he  displayed  hoards  of  artistic  treasures  and  discoursed 
learnedly  of  carpet  dye  and  porcelain  marks. 

But  he  was  by  no  means  a  ladies'  man.  He  accepted, 
and  was  welcome  at  the  hospitalities  of  many  a  mess  or 
gun  room.  He  sang  well  and  could  play  a  more  than 
ordinary  effective  accompaniment  to  a  comic  song  after 
hearing  the  air  whistled  half  a  dozen  times  by  its  would- 
be  interpreter.  The  impersonality  of  his  social  attitude 
prevented  his  being  popular,  but  he  was  an  institution. 
As  he  walked  along  he  bowed,  nodded,  smiled;  obvi- 
ously he  knew  everybody.  Obviously  everybody  knew 
him. 

As  he  walked  across  the  sunlit  square  and  dived  into 
the  deeply  shadowed  tunnel  which  is  the  Waterport,  a 
tender  fussed  noisily  up  to  the  quay.  Mr.  Miller  eyed 
the  passengers  on  its  deck  keenly. 


MR.    MILLER  49 

The  steamer  was  evidently  a  White  Star  in  from  New 
York.  The  load  of  colossal  trunks  upon  the  deck  would 
have  told  him  that  apart  from  the  accent  of  the  passen- 
gers and  the  flag  at  the  masthead.  Baggage  agents  began 
to  dart  here  and  there;  Mr.  Cook's  uniformed  inter- 
preters were  in  the  forefront  of  the  fray;  Spanish  cab 
runners  yelled  and  grimaced. 

Mr.  Miller  stood  aside  without  attempting  to  force  a 
way  into  the  tumult.  His  hands  rested  quietly  together 
on  the  hilt  of  his  cane.  His  brow  was  contemplative  and 
unruffled.  Certainly  if  he  awaited  anything  he  was  in 
no  hurry  to  find  it. 

All  things  come  to  those  who  wait,  and  Mr.  Miller  had 
not  to  wait  long.  A  man  strode  suddenly  out  of  the 
custom-house  gate,  thrust  aside  the  Spanish  porter  who 
was  snatching  at  his  handbag,  and  made  a  beckoning 
motion  towards  a  cab. 

Mr.  Miller  strode  quietly  forward  and  reached  it 
simultaneously  with  the  fare. 

The  man  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden  irritable  alert- 
ness and  then  broke  into  a  grin. 

"You  're  here,"  he  said,  and  flung  his  bag  upon  the 
seat.  The  other  responded  with  a  tiny  shrug  as  if  he 
deprecated  the  platitudinous  nature  of  the  remark.  He 
motioned  the  man  to  take  his  seat,  sat  down  beside  him, 
and  told  the  driver  the  name  of  an  hotel.  "Your  man  is 
looking  after  your  heavy  luggage?"  he  questioned. 

The  other  nodded  impatiently. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "Not  that  there's  much  to  look 
after."  He  turned  and  glanced  into  his  companion's 
face.  "I  'm  getting  down  to  bed-rock  now;  nothing  left 
to  waste  on  trivialities.  I  nearly  came  second  class." 

Miller's  eyebrows  rose. 

4 


50  THE    PURSUIT 

"That  would  have  been  unnecessary."   He  speculated. 

"Imbecile,  as  it  turned  out,"  agreed  the  man.  "There 
were  some  bridge-playing  Southerners  on  board,  old 
school,  could  n't  bring  themselves  to  be  civil  to  the  New 
Yorkers,  but  ready  to  take  an  Englishman,  and  a  lord, 
moreover,  to  their  hearts.  No  high  play,  but  I  'm  eight 
hundred  dollars  up  on  the  voyage." 

Miller  nodded  placidly. 

"Bed-rock  is  quite  a  way  down  yet,"  he  smiled. 

"Not  if  expenses  are  to  mount  as  you  advised  me  in 
your  last  letter,"  snapped  the  other.  "Has  anything 
been  done?" 

Miller  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"Force  is  beyond  us,"  he  said,  "for  we  don't  possess 
it.  Bribery  is  out  of  the  question;  there  is  no  one  left 
by  the  other  side  who  has  not  had  his  price.  Oppor- 
tunity may  be  ours.  We  must  await  it." 

"And  waiting  costs  twenty  pounds  a  week!" 

The  gray  man  turned  his  opened  palm  outwards  with 
a  deprecative  motion  which  was  not  English  at  all. 

"My  dear  Lord  Landon,  how  can  Opportunity  be 
seized  if  there  is  no  one  to  meet  her  when  she  appears  ?" 

Landon  gave  a  dissatisfied  grunt. 

"How  many  lacqueys  have  you  set  to  wait  on  her?" 

"Six,"  said  Miller,  succinctly.  "Six  men  of  action, 
who  would  have  succeeded  before  now,  but  for  an 
accident." 

Landon's  face  took  on  the  eager  expression  of  a  wolf 
to  whom  a  distant  taint  is  brought  by  the  evening  wind. 

"Eh?"  he  cried.  "There  has  been  a  chance,  then; 
their  defences  are  not  impregnable?" 

Miller  shook  his  head. 

"They  have  been  strengthened  since,"  he  said  diffi- 


MR.    MILLER  51 

dently.  "  But  the  weak  spot  in  them  is  the  child  himself. 
He  has  never  had,  if  you  will  pardon  the  remark,  proper 
control.  He  is  frankly  disobedient  of  the  precautions 
with  which  they  surround  him." 

Landon  grinned. 

"There  's  my  blood  in  him,"  he  chuckled.  "And,  by 
God,  I  'm  fond  of  the  little  toad,  too.  It 's  not  only  to 
spite  her,  Miller,  or  for  the  money  that 's  in  it.  I  never 
took  the  trouble  to  whop  him ;  I  believe  he  'd  come  to 
me  of  his  own  accord,  if  he  had  the  chance." 

"It 's  a  large  if,"  suggested  Mr.  Miller,  politely. 

Landon  made  no  retort.  His  face  had  assumed  a 
meditative  mask;  his  lips  were  firmly  pressed  together; 
he  had  the  effect  of  one  who  calculates  pro  against  con. 

"That 's  why  I  think  it 's  time  I  took  a  hand,"  he  said 
suddenly.  "  We  '11  knock  off  three  of  your  six,  Miller. 
I  am  prepared  to  be  a  host  in  myself." 

For  the  moment  the  other  said  nothing.  They  had 
swung  out  of  the  Waterport  Street  and  turned  the  sharp 
corner  which  brought  them  to  the  entrance  of  the  hotel. 
He  listened  quietly  as  his  companion  demanded  the 
number  of  the  room  engaged  for  him,  received  his  letters, 
and  entered  the  lift.  He  accompanied  him  silently.  It 
was  not  till  they  were  left  alone  that  he  pulled  a  pocket- 
book  out,  tranquilly  turned  the  leaves,  and  consulted 
an  entry. 

"I  note  that  I  have  had  no  remittance  from  you, 
Lord  Landon,"  he  announced,  "since  November." 

"Six  weeks  ago,"  agreed  Landon,  languidly.  "Six 
times  twenty  is  a  hundred  and  twenty.  You  reinforce 
my  argument,  my  good  Miller.  A  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds  gone  and  you  show  me  —  nothing." 

The  other  coughed  a  dry,  perfunctory  little  cough. 


52  THE    PURSUIT 

"As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  the  money  is,  as  you  say, 
gone,"  he  allowed,  "but  you  have  just  come  by  one 
hundred  and  sixty  sovereigns  owing  to  the  complacence 
of  these  Southern  gentlemen  on  board  your  boat.  That 
puts  us  right  and  safeguards  another  fortnight." 

Landon  nodded  and  answered  in  a  voice  as  dry  as  his 
own. 

"That  is  a  matter  for  discussion,"  he  intimated.  "I 
should  like  to  hear  these  expenses  justified  to  some  ap- 
preciable extent.  What  was  the  chance  which  failed?" 

"Though  it  failed,"  rejoined  Miller,  "it  proved  the 
advantage  of  constant  vigilance.  The  child  separated 
himself  from  his  guardians  in  the  very  midst  of  the  late 
afternoon  traffic  and  got  into  the  hands  of  one  of  our 
men.  They  reached  the  pier  together ;  they  were  within 
an  ace  of  success.  Then  Fate  interfered  —  it  must  have 
been  Fate,"  he  interpolated  with  the  ghost  of  a  grin  — 
"because  her  instrument  was  of  your  own  house." 

Landon  came  to  a  sudden  halt  in  the  opening  of  an 
envelope. 

"What's  that?"  he  cried  quickly.  "A  relation  of 
mine?" 

"Captain  John  Aylmer,  R.A.,  Assistant  Secretary  to 
the  new  Military  Works  Commission,"  answered  Miller, 
sedately. 

Landon  swore.    Then  suddenly  he  began  to  laugh. 

"It's  quaint,"  he  conceded.  "It's  damned  quaint, 
Miller.  And  he  did  —  what  ?  " 

Miller  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Interested  himself  in  the  situation,  caused  a  delay 
which  was  fatal,  for  the  moment,  to  our  success.  He 
cross-questioned  the  child  and  our  man  had  to  save 
himself,  alone." 


MR.    MILLER  53 

Landon  laughed  again. 

"And  he  knew,  this  cousin  of  mine?  He  knew  whose 
child  it  was  ?  " 

"Not  then,  but  now,  I  imagine.  He  has  met  him 
since,  at  the  Tent  Club.  He  has  also  met  your  late 
father-in-law." 

"  What  ?    The  Kite  —  old  Jacob  —  he  's  there  ?  " 

"Personally  superintending  a  situation  which  gets 
daily  more  impenetrable,  for  us.  Each  fright  we  give 
them  adds  another  palisade  to  the  defence." 

Landon  took  up  the  letters  which  he  had  laid  down 
and  went  on  opening  and  glancing  through  them.  He 
pursed  up  his  lips  into  an  obstinately  set  expression ;  he 
assumed  the  air  of  a  bargainer  who  has  reached  the 
limit  of  his  purpose.  For  he  fully  understood  the  drift 
of  Mr.  Miller's  remarks. 

"We  had  better  be  plain  with  each  other,"  he  said  at 
last.  "My  little  expedition  to  the  States  has  been  a 
failure.  As  a  matrimonial  proposition  I  am,  for  the 
present,  out  of  the  running.  They  told  me  to  come 
again  in  a  year's  time.  Title-hunting  American  women 
have  short  memories,  but  some  beastly  reporter  recog- 
nized me  and  ran  two  columns  of  reminiscences  of  the 
trial.  That  queered  me,  and  after  all  the  decree  is  not 
made  absolute  for  another  six  months." 

"Is  this  anticipatory  of  the  announcement  that  those 
eight  hundred  dollars  are  the  only  support  between  you 
and  bed-rock  after  all  ?  " 

"You  jump  at  my  meaning.  I  'm  going  to  take  over 
the  duties  of  your  six,  or  of  some  of  them,  at  any  rate." 

The  other's  gray  eyes  reviewed  his  companion  with  a 
keenly  calculating  glance.  There  was  no  irritation  in  it, 
rather  there  was  satisfaction.  Mr.  Miller  did  not  pre- 


54  THE    PURSUIT 

sent  the  aspect  of  a  man  whose  chances  of  receiving  a 
debt  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  had  been  made 
doubtful.  He  had  more  the  look  of  a  bull  speculator 
watching  a  tape  as  the  eighths  and  sixteenths  are  added 
every  few  minutes  to  the  stock  which  he  commands. 

"You  will  fail,"  he  said  drily.  "Without  funds  you 
must  fail.  One  poor  man,  in  spite  of  the  story  books, 
can  do  nothing  against  a  hundred  and  wealth." 

"Possibly,"  said  Landon.  "But  one  may  be  per- 
mitted to  try." 

"  No,"  said  the  other,  stolidly.  "One  may  not  be  per- 
mitted, in  Tangier." 

Landon  looked  up  and  for  a  moment  silence  hung 
heavily  between  the  two  men.  The  one  who  stood  was 
the  picture  of  heavy,  imperturbable  resolution.  Landon, 
sitting  back  in  his  chair,  was  animate  with  energy,  with 
a  sort  of  tenseness  which  was  almost  magnetic.  It  was 
as  if  a  panther  faced  a  rhinoceros. 

Then  Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Am  I  being  threatened,  my  dear  Miller?"  he  asked 
quietly. 

"You  are  being  informed,"  said  the  other.  "The 
Syndicate  which  I  represent  is  willing  to  finance  you,  for 
an  adequate  return.  Without  that  it  proposes  to  make 
Tangier  an  impossible  residence  for  you." 

Landon  stared  his  surprise  and  his  obvious  relief. 

"They  are  going  to  speculate  in  me?"  He  pondered 
for  a  moment.  "  I  don't  promise,  or  I  have  n't  promised, 
that  I  shall  allow  old  Jacob  to  buy  the  child  back,  if  we 
get  him,  at  all." 

Miller  nodded  weightily. 

"That  does  not  matter  to  us,"  he  announced.  "That 
is  as  you  like." 


MR.    MILLER  55 

Landon's  eyes  were  still  wide  and  debating. 

"Then  your  return  comes  —  where?"  he  asked. 

"We  are  willing  to  wait  for  it,"  said  the  other.  "The 
first  service  we  require  from  you  is  that  you  will  renew 
your  acquaintance  with  your  cousin,  Captain  Aylmer, 
and  endeavor  to  remove  the  distaste  which  I  regret  to 
think  he  feels  for  your  company." 

Landon  bent  forward,  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  table 
and  his  chin  on  his  closed  fists.  He  stared  at  his  com- 
panion with  a  concentrated,  dispassionate  examination 
which  seemed  to  probe  and  fathom  through  the  depths 
of  the  other's  impenetrability. 

Miller  met  the  scrutiny  with  no  other  manifestation 
than  an,  if  possible,  increase  of  apathy. 

Landon  dropped  his  hands  slowly  upon  the  table  and 
gave  his  head  a  tiny  shake. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  he  said.  "Why  has  my 
cousin  a  distaste  for  my  society  ?  We  have  never  been  in 
collision.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  best  man  at  my 
wedding." 

"It  is  to  be  supposed  that  he  read  the  account  of  your 
divorce,"  said  the  other,  stolidly.  "He  has  now  made 
the  acquaintance  of  your  wife's  relations." 

"I  see,"  said  Landon,  slowly.    "Is  that  all?" 

"Is  n't  it  enough?    Are  you  generally  received?" 

There  was  something  callous,  almost  brutal,  in  the 
man's  tone.  The  tiny  spot  of  color  which  began  to  burn 
in  Landon's  sallow  cheek  was  evidence  that  he  recog- 
nized it. 

"So,"  he  answered,  "I  am  to  eat  dirt  at  the  hands 
of  Captain  John  Aylmer?  I  am  to  appear  to  like  it? 
Why?" 

"Because,"    said    Miller,    dispassionately,  "you    are 


56  THE    PURSUIT 

practically  penniless.    That  is  your  side  of  the  question. 
Our  side  is  that  your  cousin  happens  to  be  what  he  is  — 
Secretary  to  the  Military  Works  Commission,  who  hold 
the  immediate  future  of  Gibraltar  in  their  hands." 

For  the  second  time,  and  through  a  longer  silence,  the 
two  stared  at  each  other.  As  the  fiery  torch  of  compre- 
hension burned  brightly  on  Landon's  face,  rose  to  his 
forehead,  seemed,  indeed,  to  gleam  in  his  eyes,  his  lips, 
which  were  at  first  grim  and  rigid,  curled  slowly  into  a 
sneer. 

"By  the  Lord!"  he  swore.  "By  the  Lord,  Miller, 
you  have  an  impudence!" 

"I  have  a  knowledge  of  values,"  said  the  other,  impas- 
sively. "  I  wish  to  get  my  commission  both  ways.  I  ex- 
pect it  from  you,  because  you  get  the  job  from  no  one 
else.  I  expect  it  from  my  employers,  because  you  are 
practically  the  only  tool  at  present,  which  they  can  use. 
I  am  perfectly  open  with  you." 

"As  open  as  the  Pit!"  snarled  Landon.  "As  candid 
as  midnight !  Let 's  have  a  taste  of  it  plainly.  What  is 
it  you  want  of  me  —  robbery?" 

Miller  made  a  gesture  of  deprecation. 

"I  want  you  to  —  borrow  —  unknown  to  your  cousin, 
certain  books,  the  nature  of  which  will  be  indicated  to 
you  in  detail." 

"And  if  I  don't?" 

"You  must,  at  any  rate,  try." 

"And  if  I  won't?" 

Miller  smiled. 

"We  don't  discuss  absurdities." 

There  was  nothing  manifestly  menacing  in  this,  but 
there  was  a  sense  of  finality.  It  reached  Landon  like  a 
shaft  of  cold  air  blown  in  through  the  suddenly  opened 


MR.    MILLER  57 

door.  Mentally  he  flinched  from  it;  he  lifted  his  shoul- 
ders into  a  shrug  of  resignation. 

"Where  are  his  quarters?" 

"In  the  South  Town  near  my  own  cottage.  For  the 
moment  that  does  not  matter.  You  meet  him  to- 
morrow, by  accident.  You  do  not  know,  you  see,  that 
he  is  here?" 

He  consulted  a  small  time-table. 

"We  should  be  on  the  quay  about  three-thirty  to- 
morrow, when  the  steamer  gets  in  from  Tangier. " 

For  the  second  time  Landon  expressed  surrender  with 
a  passive  shrug. 


CHAPTER  VI 

LANDON'S  NEW  PROFESSION 

AS  Despard  and  Aylmer  passed  out  of  the  dark  of  the 
Waterport  into  the  sunlight  of  the  square,  two 
men,  who  walked  in  front  of  them,  halted,  shook  hands, 
appeared  to  exchange  an  informal  farewell,  and  sepa- 
rated. One,  clad  in  gray  flannels  and  a  gray  sombrero, 
turned  to  the  left  and  began  to  mount  the  ramp  behind 
the  barracks.  The  other  strolled  slowly  on. 

The  two  soldiers  fresh  from  their  crossing  of  the  straits 
from  Africa  were  hailed  and  questioned  more  than  once 
by  comrades  or  friends  who  had  not  been  fortunate 
enough  to  share  in  leave  for  the  Tent  Club  meeting  and 
were  anxious  for  the  last  details  of  sport.  How  did  pig 
run  this  time  ?  Had  such  and  such  coverts  been  burned 
as  was  reported?  What  luck  had  they  had  personally? 
Despard  and  Aylmer  had  to  halt  half  a  dozen  times 
within  the  first  two  furlongs.  They  began  to  regret  that 
they  had  not  taken  a  cab. 

The  man  who  strolled  along  in  front  of  them  halted, 
too,  here  and  there.  He  did  not  appear  to  look  round, 
but  whenever  acquaintances  buttonholed  the  pair  behind 
him  it  was  noticeable  that  shop  windows  or  Moorish  curio 
sellers  claimed  his  attention.  He  lingered,  indeed,  oppo- 
site a  well-known  book  shop  till  his  sudden  resumption 
of  his  stroll  brought  him  into  collision  with  the  others  at 
the  exact  moment  of  their  passing. 


LANDON'S    NEW    PROFESSION       59 

He  started,  muttered  a  perfunctory  apology,  and  then 
made  an  exclamation. 

"  Jack ! "  he  cried  gladly,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

Aylmer  met  his  cousin's  glance,  first  with  surprise,  then 
with  a  sudden  stiffening  of  his  lips,  finally  with  frowning. 
He  gave  a  side  glance  at  Despard. 

The  major's  face  was  transfigured  with  wrath  and  loath- 
ing. He  was  looking  at  Landon  as  he  might  have  looked 
at  a  poisonous  reptile.  He  drew  back  a  step  of  instinctive 
repulsion. 

Landon  gave  a  bitter  little  laugh.  He  still  held  out  his 
hand  defiantly. 

"Is  n't  it  fit  to  be  shaken,  Jack?"  he  asked.  "Have 
I  to  thank  the  Galahad  at  your  side  for  that?" 

Despard's  eyes  grew  grim  and  set.  He  turned  to  Ayl- 
mer and  nodded  coldly. 

"See  you  later,"  he  suggested,  without  another  look 
in  Landon's  direction,  and  passed  on  his  way  with  un- 
hesitating strides.  Venomously,  malignantly,  Landon 
watched  him  go. 

"I  don't  wonder  he  won't  face  me!"  he  cried  with 
well-simulated  passion.  "By  God,  I  don't!" 

He  turned  and  stared  at  his  cousin.  Aylmer  met  his 
gaze  coolly,  unhesitatingly,  and  without  a  trace  of  re- 
lenting. For  the  second  time  Landon's  bitter  laugh  es- 
caped him. 

"You  've  had  his  version?"  he  said.  "Well,  I  don't 
altogether  wonder  at  you  in  that  case." 

" I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Aylmer,  quietly.  "The 
public  prints  have  made  it  quite  evident  that  you  're  not 
fit  for  the  society  of  decent  men,  if  that  is  what  you  mean." 

"No!"  snarled  Landon.  "It  isn't  what  I  mean. 
What  I  mean  is  that  that  blackguard  who  's  just  left  us, 


60  THE   PURSUIT 

curse  him  1  has  won  all  round.  He  took  my  wife  from  me 
and  now  he 's  taken  my  reputation,  my  honor,  and 
he  's  gone  far  to  take  every  friend  I  have.  But  by  the 
Lord  who  made  me,  Jack,  I  thought  that  you  might  be 
left  with  some  sense  of  justice ! " 

"Justice?" 

Aylmer's  voice  made  an  echo  to  Landon's.  "  Justice  ?" 
he  repeated.  "You  got  that,  or  less  than  that  in  most 
men's  opinion,  in  the  divorce  court." 

"I  did  n't!"  said  Landon,  fiercely.  "Ah,  they  made  a 
pretty  story  of  it !  The  blackguard  who  knocked  his  wife 
about,  who  thrashed  his  child,  who  took  his  wife's  al- 
lowance and  flung  it  under  a  dunghill  of  drink  and 
devilry.  That  was  me!  Who  gave  evidence?  The 
wife  herself,  who  has  since  gone  into  a  lunatic  asylum. 
Servants  who  were  bought  with  that  old  miser's  gold. 
The  man  who  wanted  her  —  Despard ! " 

In  spite  of  himself  Aylmer  gave  an  almost  imperceptible 
quiver  of  surprise. 

Landon  laughed  again. 

"Does  that  touch  you?"  he  cried.  "He  wouldn't  tell 
you  that.  Not  of  how  he  schemed,  and  laid  traps,  and 
sunk  pitfalls  for  me,  to  catch  me,  as  I  was  caught.  I  'm  no 
saint,  Lord  knows,  but  I  've  never  sunk  to  that.  I  've  had 
my  game  and  paid  my  price,  but,  by  God,  I  've  never 
cheated!" 

Aylmer's  eyes  still  met  his  with  level  contempt. 

"I  know  Despard,  I  've  known  him  since  boyhood," 
he  answered.    "He  does  not  do  these  things." 

Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Of  course!  I  'm  down  and  you  're  all  stamping  me 
into  the  mud,  lower  and  lower.  You  've  all  taken  the 
accepted  view,  and  when  I  cry  out  against  it  I  'm  told 


LANDON'S    NEW    PROFESSION       61 

I've  had  my  chance.  So  I  did,  but  it  was  never  a  fair 
one." 

"You  have  still  six  months  in  which  to  give  your  version 
to  the  King's  Proctor  if  you  have  any  new  facts  to  support 
your  statement,"  said  Aylmer,  coldly. 

"  Facts !  How  am  I  to  get  the  benefit  of  facts  when 
the  other  side  can  manufacture  answers  for  them  with  a 
dollar  for  my  every  penny  ?  I  Ve  supplied  '  facts '  to  the 
King's  Proctor  till  I  'm  sick  of  the  sight  of  his  office  paper 
assuring  me  that  he  has  'no  evidence  to  justify  my  con- 
tentions.' I  can  give  facts  enough.  It 's  a  hearing  I 
want  —  an  impartial  hearing!" 

Aylmer  shook  his  head. 

"You  got  it,"  he  said  doggedly.    "You  got  it!" 

Landon  rapped  his  stick  upon  the  pavement. 

"I  tell  you  I  did  n't!"  he  cried.  "I  tell  you  that  I 
could  tell  you  things  that  would  prove  to  you  —  yes,  prove 
—  that  the  whole  job  was  got  up  by  that  scoundrel  who  's 
just  left  us  —  got  up  by  him  to  steal  my  wife  from  me. 
I  ask  you  to  hear  me;  I  appeal  to  you  to  listen  to  my 
side ;  I  appeal  to  your  sense  of  justice ! " 

Aylmer  turned  up  the  street. 

"  If  you  think  there  is  anything  to  be  gained  by  it,  say 
on ! "  he  answered.  "You  can  walk  with  me  as  far  as  my 
quarters." 

"You  won't  ask  me  in?"  sneered  Landon.  "That 's 
more  than  I  can  expect." 

"Some  of  the  fellows  might  look  in  on  me  —  decent 
fellows,"  explained  Aylmer,  drily. 

Landon  gave  a  little  gasp,  halted,  and  leaned  suddenly 
against  the  wall.  He  looked  up  at  his  cousin.  His  lips 
worked,  he  stammered,  he  broke  into  a  panting  storm  of 
sobs. 


62  THE    PURSUIT 

"I  did  n't  deserve  that!  My  God!  I  did  n't  deserve 
that!"  he  cried. 

Aylmer  looked  down  at  him  and  a  tiny  thrill  of  com- 
punction shot  through  him.  He  hesitated.  He  did  not 
believe  in  Landon's  protestations.  He  knew,  in  every 
instinct  of  his  nature,  that  Landon  was  a  scoundrel. 
But  he  began  to  remember  that  it  had  not  always  been 
so.  Things  that  had  brought  them  together  as  boys 
came  back  to  him.  His  memory  suddenly  framed  a 
picture  of  that  wedding  nine  years  ago.  Landon  had 
gone  to  meet  his  bride  gallantly,  adoringly,  that  day. 
He  had  loved  her  then.  Yes,  he  could  not  have  acted 
that,  he  had  loved  her  then. 

And  Landon,  watching  narrowly  his  cousin's  face, 
read  the  emotions  as  they  chased  each  other  across  it  as 
if  they  had  been  writ  upon  an  open  page.  He  hugged 
himself  mentally. 

"That's  what  knocks  him!"  he  told  himself  trium- 
phantly. "The  abased  ingenuous  sinner!  A  little  more 
of  that  and,  Great  Nicholas !  I  have  him  by  the  short 
hairs!" 

He  pulled  himself  together  with  a  well-acted  effort. 
He  turned  and  drew  back. 

"You  cur!"  he  cried.  "You  cur,  to  hit  at  a  man 
who  's  down ! " 

Aylmer's  tanned  cheek  showed  through  it  a  tiny  flush. 
The  dart  had  gone  home. 

"When  you  prove  that  an  apology's  due,  I'll 
make  it." 

"  In  the  street ! "  sneered  Landon.  "  I  'm  to  shout  my 
wrongs,  tell  you  all  the  intimate  story  of  my  provocation 
before  the  town.  Thank  you  for  nothing ! " 

Aylmer  made  a  little  movement  of  the  hand  which 
implied  irritation. 


LANDON'S    NEW    PROFESSION       63 

"You  can  come  to  my  quarters,"  he  said,  "but  —  " 

"This  evening?" 

"No,  this  evening  I  'm  dining  out.  You  can  come  to 
my  quarters.  Until  you  give  me  reason  to  alter  my 
opinion  I  don't  introduce  you  to  my  friends.  Is  that 
understood  ?  " 

Landon  stood  silent  for  another  instant  before  he  an- 
swered slowly. 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed.  "  You  've  read  and  been  told  enough 
to  excuse  you.  Yes,  I  '11  come.  And  in  half  an  hour 
you  '11  be  begging  my  pardon,  or  — 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Or  what?"  said  Aylmer,  quietly. 

"Or  I  shall  know  you  Ve  made  up  your  mind  not  to  be 
convinced." 

And  then  a  sudden  taciturnity  overtook  him.  He 
marched  along  at  his  cousin's  side,  his  eyes  bent  upon 
the  pavement,  his  brows  contracted.  He  had  the  appear- 
ance of  one  who  considers  deeply.  John  Aylmer  made 
no  attempt  to  resume  conversation.  He  concluded  that 
Landon  was  either  piecing  together  a  story  out  of  unprom- 
ising material  which  would  leave  considerable  gaps  to 
be  filled  or,  which  was  more  likely,  evolving  one  out  of  his 
vivid  imagination.  In  either  case  he  was  content  to  leave 
the  issue  to  be  ascertained  in  the  privacy  of  his  quarters. 

They  gained  them  uninterrupted.  Aylmer  made  a 
sign  towards  a  chair.  Landon,  after  an  expressive  glance 
towards  the  Tantalus  on  the  sideboard,  sat  down.  Ayl- 
mer did  not  take  the  hint;  he  was  in  no  mood  to  offer 
hospitality  to  this  man,  even  to  the  inconsiderable  ex- 
tent of  a  whisky  and  soda. 

He  looked  at  Landon. 

"Well?"   he  demanded  curtly. 


64  THE    PURSUIT 

Landon  gave  another  look  towards  the  sideboard. 

"I've  hinted  once,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh  which  he 
tried  to  make  genial  and  offhand.  "This  time  I  '11  ask 
bluntly  for  it." 

"For  what?" 

There  was  no  encouragement  in  Aylmer's  voice,  and 
his  eyes  were  hard  and  unrelenting. 

"For  a  drink." 

Aylraer  shook  his  head. 

"Suppose  I  hear  your  statement  first,"  he  suggested. 
"Then  you  can  have  a  drink  here,  or  elsewhere." 

Landon  rose  to  his  feet  with  a  dramatic  jerk.  He  turned 
abruptly  towards  the  door. 

"That 's  enough,  by  God!  that 's  enough!"  he  swore 
savagely.  "I've  taken  your  insolence  once;  I'll  not 
take  it  again.  I  'm  not  fit  to  be  offered  a  drink  in  your 
rooms ;  I  'm  to  sit  like  some  damned  flunkey  giving  his 
character  while  you  cross-examine  me.  I  '11  see  you  on 
the  far  side  of  Hell  first." 

He  reached  the  door,  halted,  and  stood  with  hand  on 
it,  looking  round. 

"You  '11  be  sorry  for  this,"  he  said.  "I  tell  you  that, 
when  the  truth  of  it  comes  to  be  known,  as  it  '11  be 
known  some  day,  you  '11  be  sorry  for  it." 

Aylmer  looked  at  him  with  a  steady  contemplation 
which  showed  no  signs  of  clemency.  Landon  flung  open 
the  door  and  passed  out. 

"Cursed  prig!"  he  snapped  and  descended  the  stairs 
into  the  street.  Aylmer,  with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoul- 
ders, turned  towards  his  dressing-room. 

Ten  minutes  later  Landon  was  enjoying  his  drink  in 
Mr.  Miller's  pleasantly  furnished  apartments.  His  host 
had  supplied  it  this  time  without  any  demur  —  with 


LANDON'S    NEW    PROFESSION       65 

alacrity.  He  watched  his  guest  dispose  of  it  and  has- 
tened to  offer  another.  This,  too,  disappeared  down 
Landon's  throat  and  a  third  was  placed  solicitously  at 
his  elbow.  Not  till  these  arrangements  had  been  com- 
pleted did  Mr.  Miller  smirch  his  hospitality  with  any 
hint  of  business.  But  though  he  differed  from  Aylmer 
in  this,  he  imitated  him  in  the  directness  of  his  pour- 
parlers. He,  indeed,  used  the  same  monosyllable. 

"Well?"  he  said  inquiringly. 

Landon  nodded  with  much  satisfaction. 

"I  got  in,"  he  said  briefly.  "I  was  only  there  two 
minutes,  at  a  liberal  computation,  but  I  've  found  out  and 
done  all  I  required.  He  's  dining  out  to-night.  The 
books,  as  you  expected,  are  in  an  ordinary  bookcase,  glass 
fronted,  with  an  ordinary  padlock  on  it.  What  fools  these 
War  Office  experts  are!  There  was  a  spare  latch-key 
of  his  rooms  hanging  on  a  hook  on  the  wall,  for  the  ser- 
vant, I  suppose.  I  nicked  it  as  I  went  out.  I  met  the 
servant  on  the  stairs  —  just  as  well,  if  I  run  across  him 
to-night.  There  will  be  nothing  rummy  in  my  returning  to 
see  his  master.  I  purposely  dragged  my  coat  against  the 
passage  whitewash,  and  after  he  offered  to  brush  it  for 
me  I  gave  him  half  a  crown.  So  he  's  all  right;  he  thinks 
I  'm  a  worthy  gentleman  who  ought  to  be  encouraged  to 
call  often.  Is  that  all  right?" 

Mr.  Miller  smiled. 

"You  show  such  talents  and  attention  to  detail, 
my  dear  Lord  Landon,"  he  answered,  "that  I  grieve 
that  I  am  not  the  happy  partner  of  such  a  colleague 
permanently." 

Landon  looked  across  at  him  with  a  grin. 

"  Seriously  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"Quite  seriously,"  replied  the  impassive  Mr.  Miller. 

5 


66  THE    PURSUIT 

Landon  meditated. 

"If  there  is  good  money  in  it  —  ?"  he  mused  slowly, 
but  his  host  hastened  to  interrupt  him  energetically. 

"Excellent  money,"  he  assured  him,  "and  we  have 
always  a  use  for  a  lord." 

Landon  grinned  again. 

"Perhaps  my  value  will  increase  after  this  evening," 
he  suggested.  "When  do  you  purpose  going?" 

"Would  half-past  nine  suit  you  ?"  said  Miller,  affably, 
and  Landon  nodded. 

"  Charmed,  I  'm  sure,"  he  grinned  again,  and  tossed 
off  his  third  glass  with  unction.  "Here's  luck!"  he 
cried,  and  Mr.  Miller,  who  used  spirits  sparingly,  and  in 
the  afternoon  not  at  all,  was  forced  to  include  himself 
in  the  aspiration  with  the  good  fellowship  which  is  im- 
plied in  a  courteous  bow. 

At  half-past  nine  Aylmer's  soldier  servant  found,  as 
Landon  had  prophesied,  nothing  extraordinary  in  his 
master's  guest's  return.  The  glint  of  a  second  half 
crown  shone  persuasively  in  that  guest's  hand  as  he  ex- 
pressed his  desire  to  write  a  note  to  await  the  master's 
coming.  He  was  shown  without  any  demur  into  the 
sitting-room,  and  supplied  with  pen  and  paper. 

But  Landon's  talents  were  not  wasted  on  literary 
composition  when  he  was  left  alone.  He  produced  a 
pair  of  pliers  and  dealt  very  drastically  with  the  padlock 
on  the  bookcase,  opened  the  glazed  doors,  and  ran  his 
fingers  down  the  numbers  engraved  upon  the  morocco- 
bound  volumes.  He  selected  one,  opened  it,  flipped  the 
pages,  and  finally  came  to  a  halt,  his  finger-tip  poised 
above  a  plan. 

He  closed  the  book  and  went  to  the  window.  He 
opened  it  noiselessly. 


LANDON'S    NEW    PROFESSION       67 

"Number  34  North  Front.  Elevation  of  gun  plat- 
forms with  angles  to  east  and  south,"  he  enunciated  very 
quietly  but  very  distinctly  into  the  night. 

A  grayness  stirred  in  the  shadow  below  the  window. 
There  was  a  whispered  reply. 

"Right!"  answered  Miller's  voice  laconically,  and 
Landon  poised  the  book  in  mid-air. 

"Can  you  see  it?"  he  asked,  still  below  his  breath. 
There  was  an  affirmative  grunt  from  below. 

The  book  left  Landon's  hand  and  fell  through  the  night. 
There  was  a  faint  shock  as  it  reached  the  waiting  grip  in 
the  darkness. 

Landon  quietly  and  methodically  shut  the  window 
and  turned  to  the  desk.  He  leaned,  pen  in  hand,  over 
the  note-paper. 

There  was  the  click  of  a  latch-key.  He  swung  round 
to  confront  his  cousin. 

For  a  second  the  two  eyed  each  other  in  silence.  Then 
Landon  rose  slowly  to  his  feet. 

"I  came,  forgetting  that  you  were  dining  out,"  he 
said.  "  I  came  because  I  reasoned  that  by  now  .  .  .  you 
would  be  wanting  ...  to  offer  me  an  apology." 

Aylmer  looked  at  the  desk.  Landon  followed  the 
glance. 

"I  was  going  to  explain  —  why?"  he  added,  pointing 
at  the  unsullied  note-paper. 

And  then  Alymer's  gaze,  which  had  been  concentrated 
on  his  cousin's  face,  slipped  past  it  and  found,  by 
chance,  the  bookcase. 

His  brows  met  in  a  puzzled  frown ;  he  made  a  step 
forward;  he  bent  to  examine  the  fractured  padlock. 
Then  he  straightened  himself  and  gave  an  exclamation. 

Landon  was  readv.     He  drew  a  revolver  from  his 


68  THE    PURSUIT 

pocket;  he  held  it  by  the  muzzle.  And  the  butt  came 
down  with  business-like  vigor  on  Aylmer's  temple.  He 
seemed  to  crumple  up  rather  than  fall.  He  slid  against 
the  bookcase  to  the  floor. 

The  dawn  was  breaking  before,  confusedly,  achingly, 
consciousness  wavered  back  to  him  again  —  the  same 
dawn  which  saw  a  Spanish  steamer  drop  anchor  in  Tan- 
gier's roads  and  Landon,  with  a  satisfied  smile,  swing 
down  the  ladder  into  the  boat  which  was  to  take  him 
ashore. 


CHAPTER  VII 

VILLA   EULALIA 

AYLMER  looked  up  as  Despard  came  into  the 
room.  A  kit  bag  lay  on  the  floor  half  full  and 
Aylmer's  man  was  packing  it.  Despard  raised  his  eye- 
brows in  surprise. 

"Going?"  he  asked  quickly.     "Where?" 

"Tangier,"  said  Aylmer.  "To-night,  by  the  Forwood 
boat." 

Despard  gave  a  little  whistle. 

"And  the  Commission?"  he  objected. 

"I  've  had  very  special  luck  there,"  explained  Aylmer. 
"Sir  Arthur  went  down  with  influenza  yesterday  morn- 
ing. So  the  Commission,  instead  of  meeting  this  week 
as  proposed,  adjourns  till  the  end  of  November." 

He  leaned  down,  gave  a  searching  glance  into  the  bag, 
and  closed  it. 

"That  will  do,  Sillery,"  he  said  to  the  servant.  "I  '11 
call  if  I  want  you." 

As  the  man  went  out  Despard  dropped  down 
upon  the  sofa.  He  sat  and  looked  across  at  his 
companion  with  a  glance  which  blended  inquiry  and 
concern. 

"I  've  heard  only  rumors,  so  far,"  he  remarked. 

Aylmer  made  a  little  gesture  towards  the  bookcase, 
which  was  still  broken  but  empty. 

"I  came  back  unexpectedly  last  night.  I  had  been 
discussing  a  point  with  the  general  at  dinner  and  ran 


70  THE    PURSUIT 

across  to  find  a  book  to  prove  my  contention.  I  found 
Landon  here,  ransacking  the  bookcase.  One  volume  is 
gone.  He  took  me  unawares  and  knocked  me  out.  I 
did  n't  come  to  for  several  hours." 

Despard  made  an  inarticulate  exclamation  of  anger. 

"And  he  escaped,  out  of  Gibraltar?" 

"By  the  Miramar,  so  the  police  declare.  A  Spanish 
tramp,  going  down  the  Moroquin  coast  and  stopping 
first  at  Tangier." 

"  He  's  gone  to  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone,"  said 
Despard.  "And  you  are  pursuing?" 

"Naturally,"  said  Aylmer,  in  a  very  matter-of-fact 
voice. 

"And  your  leave  home  —  Scotland  —  cub  hunting?" 

"That  goes,  of  course.  Possibly,  if  ten  weeks  is  in- 
sufficient, my  secretaryship  goes.  Perhaps,  old  chap, 
even  my  commission." 

Despard  got  up  with  a  startled  jerk. 

"What 's  that?"   he  cried  fiercely.    "What 's  that?" 

Aylmer's  hand  made  a  deprecative  motion. 

"My  duty  's  plain,  is  n't  it?"  he  asked. 

"No!"  retorted  Despard.  "If  these  old  women  of 
Commissioners  have  no  more  sense  than  to  direct  you 
to  keep  important  books  in  a  simple  bookcase  in  your 
quarters  — 

"Oh,  the  book?"  interrupted  Aylmer,  placidly.  "Of 
course,  there  's  the  book." 

Despard  halted,  hesitated,  and  looked  at  his  friend 
with  curiosity. 

"You  mean  the  contents  of  it?  You  can't  help  them 
getting  known?" 

Aylmer  nodded. 

"We  must  recognize  the  fact  that  they  are  known  by 


VILLA    EULALIA  71 

whoever  buys  them,  or  whoever  hired  Landon  to  steal 
them." 

"Then  why  worry;  why  pursue,  why  start  on  this 
wild-goose  chase?"  He  pointed  to  the  great  bruise  on 
Aylmer's  forehead.  "  It 's  outrageous,  with  that  on  you. 
It 's  probably  dangerous." 

For  a  moment  Aylmer  was  silent.  He  stood  looking 
at  Despard,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  express  a  sort  of 
speculative  criticism. 

"Landon  is  my  cousin,"  he  said  at  last,  as  if  he  put 
the  keystone  to  an  argumentative  arch. 

"What  of  it?" 

For  the  second  time  Aylmer  hesitated  before  he 
spoke. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  in  this  part  of 
the  world  I  am  responsible  for  the  good  name  which  he 
is  smirching.  He  has  gone  to  Tangier  —  not  only  to 
save  his  skin.  He  has  gone  to  commence  a  campaign  of 
terrorization  against  the  Van  Arlens.  Merely  as  an 
Aylmer  I  have  to  pit  my  hand  against  his,  merely  to 
clear  our  name  and  to  do  my  duty.  And  there  is  more 
than  that.  Since  Landon,  for  moral  purposes,  is  dead, 
I  consider  that  morally,  and  very  possibly  legally,  I  am 
the  child's  guardian.  To  keep  my  trust  I  have  to  safe- 
guard the  child  from  his  father." 

Despard  tapped  his  fingers  doubtfully  upon  the 
mantelpiece. 

"And  the  Van  Arlens?"  he  questioned. 

There  were  tones  in  his  voice  which  made  Aylmer 
pause  over  his  portmanteau. 

"The  Van  Arlens?  I  am,  of  course,  going  to  them 
direct." 

Despard  hesitated. 


73  THE    PURSUIT 

"You  can't  work  with  them,"  he  said  at  last.  "They 
won't  accept  your  help." 

A  flicker  of  emotion,  first  of  pain  and  then  of  purpose, 
gleamed  in  Aylmer's  eyes. 

"But  they  may  need  it,"  he  answered.  He  looked  at 
Despard  searchingly. 

"And  why  not?"  he  went  on.  "What  have  they 
against  me  except  my  name?" 

"You  don't  know  what  it  has  come  to  mean  to  them, 
in  eight  years,"  said  Despard,  quietly. 

And  then  a  queer  little  silence  fell  between  them,  an 
interval  which  seemed  charged  with  the  electricity  of 
emotion.  Despard  looked  at  Aylmer.  His  friend  was 
staring  in  his  direction,  but  with  a  meditative,  impersonal 
gaze  which  seemed  to  glance  through  —  not  at  —  him. 
And  a  smile  grew  faintly  about  his  lips,  though  these, 
indeed,  were  pressed  firmly  together. 

He  straightened  his  shoulders,  he  sighed. 

"Of  course  I  start  handicapped,"  he  allowed.  "But 
I  can  run  a  waiting  race."  And  then  he  gave  an  invol- 
untary start  and  a  quick,  curious  glance  at  his  compan- 
ion. "We  are  n't  competitors?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

The  crimson  surged  up  under  the  tan  on  Despard's 
forehead.  He  laughed  harshly. 

"The  race  was  run  and  I  was  beaten,  nine  years  ago," 
he  said.  "There  will  be  no  other  entry,  for  me."  He 
walked  up  to  Aylmer  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"God  knows,  old  chap,  I  wish  you  luck.  But  you 
carry  weight,  there  's  no  denying  that." 

Aylmer  nodded  again. 

"To  carry  weight  one  wants  a  stayer,"  he  said.  "And 
I  can  stay,  Despard." 

The  other  nodded. 


VILLA    EULALIA  73 

"Yes,"  he  said  quietly.  "You  can  stay.  And  as  far 
as  I  know,  the  course  is  clear."  His  voice  halted  and 
stumbled  queerly.  "I  ran  straight,  too,  but  I  was 
fouled." 

And  with  a  grip  of  Aylmer's  hand  he  went  out,  to  lay 
the  balm  of  hope  against  the  unhealed  wound  fate  had 
dealt  him,  nine  long  years  before. 


As  twenty-four  hours  later  Aylmer  climbed  the  steps 
from  the  water's  edge  to  the  pierhead  of  Tangier,  a  red 
fez  was  doffed  from  a  close-cropped  skull  and  out  of  a 
little  crowd  of  hotel  touts  a  Moor  saluted  with  a  wel- 
coming smile. 

"A  pleasant  surprise,  Sidi,"  he  remarked  affably. 
"There  is  no  hunt  abroad  to-day." 

Aylmer  shook  his  head  gravely. 

"Not  in  thy  meaning,  Daoud,"  he  answered.  He 
moved  closer  to  him.  "  A  Spanish  boat  —  the  Miramar 
came  in  at  dawn?"  he  questioned. 

The  Moor  hesitated  and  then  turned  to  shout  to 
a  companion.  The  man  answered  with  a  laconic 
affirmative. 

Daoud  nodded. 

"Yes,  Sidi.  She  came  in.  As  you  see,  she  has  gone 
again." 

"Who  landed  from  her?" 

Again  Absalaam  put  queries  to  the  assembled  loafers. 
They  answered  obscenely  but  with  directness. 

"A  man  came  ashore  with  the  captain  and  did  not 
return  with  him,"  said  the  Moor.  "Is  this,  then,  an 
affair  of  importance?" 

"I  will  give  fifty  dollars  to  him  who  brings  me  face  to 


74  THE    PURSUIT 

face  with  that  man,"  said  Aylmer,  quietly.  "Let  your 
fellows  know  this." 

Absalaam  frowned  ferociously  and  then  laughed,  a 
queer,  high-pitched  nasal  laugh. 

"My  fellows!"  He  swept  his  hand  towards  the  pier 
loafers  witheringly.  "Does  the  Sidi  think  that  I  am  of 
this  noble  company  of  —  of  dogs  and  eaters  of  dirt?" 
He  laughed  again,  cheerfully  this  time.  "After  all,  I 
have  given  the  Sidi  every  reason  to  believe  it.  But  it  is 
not  so.  My  work  in  Tangier  sends  me  strange  com- 
panions, but  I  am  not  of  them.  And  there  is  no  need 
that  these  should  debauch  themselves  with  your  fifty 
dollars,  Sidi.  I  will  see  to  this  thing!" 

Aylmer  made  a  gesture  of  assent. 

"  As  you  will,  so  that  the  matter  is  done  with  speed.  I 
stay  at  the  Bristol.  For  the  moment  I  visit  the  Villa 
Eulalia." 

"You  can  spare  yourself  the  heat  and  the  mounting 
of  the  hill,  Sidi.  They  of  the  villa  set  forth  on  an  expe- 
dition to  the  lighthouse  this  morning." 

Aylmer  came  to  a  halt,  irresolute. 

"This  is  not  mere  talk;  you  know  it?" 

The  Moor  looked  at  him  with  sombre  eyes  which, 
however,  barely  hid  a  twinkle. 

"The  lady,  the  little  lord,  and  their  attendants  went; 
this  I  saw  myself.  Absalaam  ibn  Said,  their  dragoman, 
is  my  cousin.  I  spoke  with  him." 

"The  old  man?" 

Daoud's  shrug  conveyed  the  fact  that  he  was  suffi- 
ciently conversant  with  the  customs  of  Nazrani  to  have 
neglected  the  movements  of  one  who  could  surely  not 
claim  the  attentions  which  were  notoriously  the  due  of 
his  daughter. 


VILLA    EULALIA  75 

"  I  did  not  concern  myself  to  notice  the  old  man,  Sidi. 
If  your  business  is  with  him,  doubtless  it  is  God's  will 
that  he  awaits  you." 

He  waved  towards  the  town  with  a  determined  and 
energetic  sweep  of  the  hand. 

"I  go,  to  earn  your  dollars,  Sidi.  One  hour  may 
suffice  me;  perchance  I  must  waste  three  or  even  four. 
But  I  shall  find  him,  have  no  doubt  of  the  matter.  Have 
I  your  leave  to  depart?" 

As  they  passed  together  under  the  shadow  of  the  Marsa 
gate,  Aylmer  nodded  and  the  next  moment  passed  alone 
into  the  crowd.  A  side  alley  had  swallowed  Daoud  as  if 
by  magic. 

Aylmer  joined  the  main  stream  of  traffic  which  breasted 
up  past  the  Mosque  and  the  little  S6k  towards  the  Gate  of 
the  Great  Market,  and  so,  past  the  hovels  of  the  desert 
vagrants  which  cluster  round  the  walls,  to  the  Marshan 
and  the  European  quarter  outside  the  town. 

A  little  apart  from  the  cluster  of  Legations  stood  the 
Villa  Eulalia,  encircled  with  its  tiny  park.  This,  in  its 
turn,  was  bounded  by  a  high  wall  of  plaster  or  dried  mud. 
The  entrance  led  under  an  archway  by  a  porter's  lodge. 

A  Moor  in  a  spotless  bournous  appeared  and  made  a 
grave  gesture  of  obeisance  as  the  visitor  stood  in  the 
shadow  of  the  porch. 

Aylmer  presented  his  card. 

The  man  inspected  it  and  pulled  a  cord.  Some  way 
off,  inside  the  house,  came  the  clang  of  a  bell.  Another, 
man  emerged,  took  the  card  which  the  porter  handed 
him,  and  disappeared.  All  this  time  Aylmer  still  stood 
outside  the  gate. 

Perhaps  a  certain  irritation  showed  on  his  face,  for  the 
porter  made  a  gesture  of  deprecation. 


76  THE    PURSUIT 

"If  the  Sidi  would  sit—-?"  He  submitted  courte- 
ously, indicating  his  own  chair.  "I  do  not  know  the 
Sidi,"  he  added,  with  another  tiny  shrug,  "or  else  — 
His  voice  died  away.  He  let  it  be  inferred  that  circum- 
stances, not  his  own  desire,  stood  between  the  visitor  and 
instant  welcome. 

Aylmer  smiled. 

"Strangers  do  not  have  the  entree?"  he  asked,  as  he 
seated  himself. 

The  man  bowed  a  grave  affirmative. 

"These  are  my  orders,  Sidi,"  he  answered.  "But  if 
the  Sidi  comes  again  he  will  find  that  I  have  a  good  mem- 
ory. I  do  not  forget  a  face." 

Aylmer  nodded.  "I  hope  to  prove  it,  my  friend,"  he 
said  quietly,  and  then  sat  silent,  reviewing  his  surround- 
ings. 

There  is  probably  no  more  beautifully  situated  dwell- 
ing in  Africa  than  this  wide  one-storied  house  upon  the 
knoll  which  dominates  the  Marshan  with  Tangier  at  its 
feet.  Beyond  the  clustered  houses  of  the  town  lies  the 
blue  of  the  bay.  Beyond  that  again  the  gray  vagueness 
of  Gibraltar,  Cadiz,  and  the  cork  woods  of  Spain.  On 
clear  days,  high,  white,  and  mystical  looms,  above  all, 
the  snow  of  the  Sierra. 

Far  to  the  east  stands  the  ring  of  mountains  which 
encircles  Tetuan,  and  this,  for  many  months  of  the  year, 
has  its  own  crown  of  white.  Away  to  the  west  is  the  in- 
finite emptiness  of  the  Atlantic  beyond  Spartel,  while 
southward,  a  barrier  between  the  sea  and  the  desert 
wastes,  Sheshouan  rears  up  its  mighty  crest.  To  which- 
ever quarter  the  eye  turns  there  is  loveliness  —  loveliness 
both  of  color  and  of  line.  And  the  lucent  clearness  of  the 
atmosphere  emphasizes  both.  Sometimes  the  mist  floats 


VILLA    EULALIA  77 

in  and  covers  the  seascape  with  a  cloud  of  mystery,  but  it 
is  seldom,  save  in  the  short  time  of  the  rains,  that  the 
landward  view  is  anything  but  sun-swathed.  And  the 
sands  which  stretch  between  the  river  and  the  town  walls 
seem  to  suck  in  his  rays  and  render  them  back  from  their 
yellow  richness  when  his  face  is  obscured. 

What  nature  has  done  for  the  distant  views  artifice 
has  graven  upon  the  immediate  surroundings.  Pipes  laid 
down  to  the  little  River  of  the  Jews,  which  babbles  below 
the  knoll,  bring  up  water  to  irrigate  the  lawns  which  sur- 
round the  verandahs.  Nowhere  in  Tangier  is  there  such 
a  carpet  of  living  green.  The  creepers  climb  the  verandah 
posts  and  trail  unrestrained  upon  the  roof.  Great  white, 
red,  and  yellow  flowers  swing  from  pole  to  pole  as  the 
sea  breeze  freshens ;  trailing  tendrils  of  vine  and  clema- 
tis nod  through  the  open  windows  and  mingle  with  the 
cords  of  the  string  curtains.  And  the  plash  of  water  adds 
to  the  sense  of  leisure  and  repose.  A  little  fountain  plays 
ceaselessly  from  the  summit  of  a  massed  pyramid  of 
rocks  and  rambles  down  into  the  grass  between  clus- 
tered ferns.  In  masses  of  six  and  seven  the  date  palms 
fling  shade  from  trunk  to  trunk. 

Peace  was  the  pervading  element,  Aylmer  told  himself, 
as  he  looked  down  the  shady  alleys  and  listened  to  the 
voice  of  the  fountain,  and  yet  peace,  as  facts  went,  was 
further  from  this  abode  than  from  the  clangors  of  the 
market-place  in  the  faction-riven  town  at  their  feet. 
This  was  no  house  of  pleasure ;  it  was  a  fortress,  with 
the  enemy  ever  at  the  gate. 

The  precautions  of  his  own  entrance  were  sign  enough, 
but  other  things  bore  witness.  A  score  of  gardeners  was 
not  necessary  to  tend  the  two  acres  of  pleasaunce,  elab- 
orately planned  and  kept  though  they  were.  There  was 


78  THE    PURSUIT 

no  entrance  save  the  one;  two  others  had  been  solidly 
walled  in.  Bars  were  on  the  windows ;  massive  bolts  upon 
the  inner  wooden  gate  beyond  the  iron  one. 

Remembering  to  whom  this  debt  of  anxiety  and  watch- 
fulness was  due,  Aylmer  set  his  lips  yet  more  grimly  as 
he  waited.  Landon  should  pay  to  the  uttermost,  not  only 
for  the  wrongs  which  he  had  heaped  year  by  year  upon 
his  wife  and  her  relations,  but  for  the  injury  he  had  done 
to  those  of  his  own  blood.  Aylmer's  eyes  grew  hard;  his 
color  rose  angrily.  He,  John  Aylmer,  a  reputable  man, 
sat  and  waited  admission  to  a  house  like  a  common  mendi- 
cant, because  Landon  was  a  scoundrel.  And  beyond 
this,  was  there  not  more?  Had  he  not  had  to  endure  a 
look  of  repulse,  of  loathing,  from  eyes  —  for  the  first 
time  he  confessed  it,  even  to  himself  —  which  had  be- 
come to  him  the  very  eyes  of  Fate.  By  God !  Landon 
should  pay  bitterly  for  that ! 

A  step  upon  the  gravel  scattered  his  reflections.  He 
looked  up.  Mr.  Van  Arlen  was  coming  towards  him, 
his  head  bent  to  that  courteous,  suavely  interested  in- 
clination which  is  a  relic  of  the  old  school  of  politeness. 
No  man  under  sixty  has  had  the  time,  or  the  inclina- 
tion, to  practise  these  old-time  graces. 

Aylmer  rose,  and  held  out  his  hand.  Mr.  Van  Arlen, 
with  profuse  gesticulations,  insisted  on  personally 
bringing  forward  a  couple  of  low  deck  chairs  into  the 
shadow  of  the  palms.  He  waved  his  visitor  to  take  a  seat. 

Aylmer  bowed,  but  preferred,  he  said,  to  stand.  There 
was  a  significance  in  his  tone  which  did  not  escape,  was, 
indeed,  not  meant  to  escape,  his  companion.  The  old 
gentleman  gave  him  a  keen  and  somewhat  disquieted 
look. 

"But  I  cannot  sit  if  you  do  not,"  he  protested.     He 


VILLA    EULALIA 

gave  the  back  of  the  chair  a  seductive  little  pat. 
me  persuade  you,"  he  pleaded  anxiously. 

"Mr.  Van  Arlen,"  said  Aylmer,  slowly,  "I  am  not  re- 
ceived here  as  a  friend.  I  prefer,  therefore,  to  give  my 
message  standing,  as  a  matter  of  business." 

The  gray,  furrowed  face  flushed. 

"My  dear  sir!"  protested  the  old  man.  "My  dear 
sir!" 

"You  obviously  evade  my  hand;  you  do  not  desire  to 
ask  me  inside  your  house?"  insisted  Aylmer,  quietly. 

The  other  raised  a  hand  which  shook  deprecatingly. 
But  Aylmer  forestalled  his  attempt  at  speech. 

"You  do  these  things,  or  rather  you  avoid  doing  them, 
without  any  personal  cause  of  complaint  against  me,  but 
because  my  name  is  what  it  is?" 

Van  Arlen's  hand  fell  to  his  side.  The  pained  remon- 
strative  look  faded  from  his  eyes.  His  lips,  which  had 
quivered,  grew  suddenly  set  and  were  firmly  pressed 
together.  He  seemed  to  increase  in  stature. 

"Is  not  my  reason  good ?"  he  cried  sharply,  as  if  some 
relentlessly  passionate  impulse  mastered  all  restraint. 

"  No,"  said  Aylmer,  quietly,  "  though  I  grant  your  pro- 
vocation has  been  ample.  Let  me  tell  you  this.  If  there 
are  any  men  breathing  whose  loathing  of  your  son-in- 
law  can  equal  your  own,  it  is  those  who  are  tainted  with 
his  name.  In  the  name  of  my  kinsmen,  a  name  all  repu- 
table till  Landon  smirched  it,  I  tender  you  their  sympathy 
and  regret." 

For  a  long  instant  the  gray  eyes  beneath  the  grayer 
eyebrows  searched  Aylmer's  face.  Doubt,  perplexity, 
and  then  finally  a  thrill  of  obvious  relief  passed  across 
the  waxen  face.  Aylmer's  hand  was  taken;  he  was 
gently  propelled  towards  a  chair. 


8o  THE    PURSUIT 

"I  have  suffered  much;  can  I  be  forgiven?"  said  the 
old  man  wearily.  "Can  you  make  my  excuses  valid  to 
yourself?" 

"They  were  written,  and  the  shame  of  our  family  with 
them,  all  too  large  in  the  press  of  two  hemispheres," 
said  Aylmer.  "  God  knows  I  am  not  here  to-day  to  bring 
anything  more  than  such  little  reparation  as  is  within 
my  power." 

"Reparation?"  Van  Arlen's  tone  was  more  than  sur- 
prised ;  it  was  startled. 

Aylmer  nodded. 

"I  came  to  give  you  information  of  Landon's  where- 
abouts. He  is  here  in  Tangier,  Mr.  Van  Arlen.  I  came 
to  put  you  on  your  guard,  and  at  the  same  time  to  offer 
you  my  assistance." 

Quickly,  accurately,  and  in  as  few  words  as  possible 
he  outlined  the  events  of  the  previous  evening.  Silently, 
but  with  growing  anxiety,  Mr.  Van  Arlen  heard  him  to 
the  end. 

He  rose,  trembling  a  little,  as  Aylmer  concluded. 

"You  will  excuse  me  if  I  leave  you  to  —  to  give  some 
orders.  The  one  outstanding  fact  in  your  story  for  me 
is  that  Landon  is  here,  and  that  my  daughter  and  the 
boy  are  on  this  expedition.  They  have  their  usual 
attendants,  but  —  but—  He  halted,  stammering. 
"He  —  he  may  poise  his  all  on  one  last  attempt?  He 
may  get  together  a  following  which  would  overpower 
them?" 

Aylmer  looked  at  him  debatingly. 

"Yes,"  he  allowed.  "That  is  a  possibility  to  be  faced 
though  I  believe  his  resources  are,  or  were,  meagre.  You 
will  take  more  men  and  go  and  meet  them  ?" 

The  old  man  made  a  gesture  of  apology. 


VILLA    EULALIA  81 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "And,  if  you  will  pardon  ray  curtness, 
at  once." 

"The  sooner  the  better,"  agreed  Aylmer,  quietly,  "as 
I  hope  to  be  allowed  to  accompany  you  ?  " 

Van  Arlen  gave  a  little  start,  one  that  seemed  to  imply 
a  doubt  or  a  question.  As  if  he  replied  to  it,  Aylmer  gave 
a  little  nod. 

"You  must  accept  me  as  an  ally,  my  dear  sir,"  he  said. 
"You  have  seen  that  I  have  a  pressing  need  to  meet 
Landon.  I  should  like  to  do  so  in  your  company." 

The  other  still  hesitated. 

"Why?"  he  asked. 

"  Because  I  would  like  to  make  the  interview  convinc- 
ing—  to  you,"  said  Aylmer.  "Because  I  covet  your 
friendship;  because  I  want  you  and  your  family  to  re- 
vise their  estimate  of  the  name  of  Aylmer.  Because," 
he  paused  and  deliberated  over  his  words  for  a  moment, 
"because  I  want  to  be  received  by  you  at  Villa  Eulalia, 
inside." 

Again  the  gray  face  flushed;  again  the  hand  was 
raised  in  deprecation.  And  then  the  bell  in  the  porch 
rang  furiously,  and  continued  to  ring  till  the  porter 
emerged  frowning  from  his  lodge. 

Aylmer  heard  the  sound  of  blows  and  his  own  name 
repeated  in  fierce  interrogation.  He  recognized  the 
voice.  It  was  Daoud  who  was  shouting  and  endeavoring 
to  gain  entrance  in  the  face  of  the  porter's  emphatic 
protests. 

As  Aylmer  advanced  to  the  bars,  the  tumult  ceased. 

"Sidi!  Sidi!"  cried  the  Moor.  "Your  man  left  by 
the  Larache  road  three  hours  back.  A  company  of 
ne'er-do-wells  have  taken  a  sudden  impulse  to  visit 
Arzeila,  or  so  they  said.  He  joined  himself  to  them, 

6 


82  THE    PURSUIT 

wearing  native  dress,  and  was  accepted  by  them  without 
comment.  Surely  there  is  something  of  strangeness  and 
importance  in  this.  I  have  run,  I  have  sweated,  to  let 
you  know!" 

Van  Arlen  gave  an  exclamation  of  alarm. 

"It  is  as  I  thought!"  he  cried.  "The  Arzeila  road? 
That  is  a  blind.  They  can  make  a  cut  across  towards 
Spartel  at  any  moment."  He  shouted  towards  one  of  the 
watching  attendants ;  his  voice  seemed  to  gain  new  force 
as  he  issued  his  orders  alertly.  He  faced  Aylmer  again. 
"  It  is  a  matter  of  speed,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  must  hasten 
—  at  the  gallop." 

Aylmer  gave  him  a  protesting  look. 

"Not  I !    We,"  he  corrected. 

For  a  moment  the  other  still  hesitated.  Then  a  smile 
broke  into  being  in  his  sombrely  weary  eyes. 

"We,  then,"  he  agreed.  "Even  the  gentleman  who  has 
sadly  impaired  the  distinction  of  my  porter,  if  you  can 
guarantee  him.  We  may  need  all  the  help  we  can  get. 
Certainly  we !  God  send  we  may  be  in  time ! " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  FIRST  TRICK   IS   LOST 

THE  cavalcade  of  horsemen  swept  along  a  level 
plain  of  beach  and  from  there  turned  aside  to 
gain  the  broom-covered  slope  which  led  towards  the  cliff 
top.  The  white  column  of  the  lighthouse,  which  had 
been  their  guide  heretofore,  disappeared  behind  the 
shoulder  of  the  ascent.  It  was  no  more  than  a  couple  of 
miles  away.  The  riders  spurred  their  horses  up  the  steep, 
Aylmer  and  Van  Arlen  leading.  The  edge  of  their  anx- 
ieties grew  blunter  as  they  neared  their  goal.  They 
might  be  in  time  to  meet  and  safeguard  those  they  sought 
before  they  left  the  shelter  of  Spartel. 

As  they  topped  the  rise  and  looked  across  the  undulat- 
ing stretch  of  green  which  lay  before  them,  Daoud, 
riding  behind  Aylmer,  gave  a  triumphant  shout. 

"La  bos,  alkumdidlah ! "  he  cried  fervently.  "No 
harm,  thanks  to  God.  The  lady  is  even  now  coming 
towards  us  with  her  party  unharmed." 

Their  eyes  followed  the  direction  of  his  finger.  A  great 
sigh  of  relief  broke  from  Mr.  Van  Arlen's  lips. 

A  party  came  slowly  towards  them,  a  couple  of  fur- 
longs distant.  Seven  or  eight  were  men  mounted  on  barbs, 
and  armed,  in  spite  of  prohibitions,  with  Remington  rifles 
swung  across  their  laps.  In  front  of  them,  a  couple  of 
mules  paced  doggedly  on,  carrying  two  white-clad  figures. 
At  their  bridles  were  djelab-clothed  youths,  whose  adjura- 
tions of  their  charges  were  audible  even  at  that  distance, 


84  THE    PURSUIT 

so  still  was  the  evening  air.  Two  or  three  dogs  chased 
each  other  and  supposititious  partridges  from  tuft  to 
tuft. 

Van  Arlen  and  Aylmer  saw  that  they  were  seen,  but  not 
recognized.  The  muleteers  halted  and  cried  loudly  to 
the  guard.  The  horsemen  looked  up,  whirled  up  their 
rifles  with  their  right  hands,  and  spurred  to  the  front. 

Daoud's  bull  voice  stormed  the  cliff  echoes. 

"  Absalaam  —  Absalaam  ibn  Said !  Son  of  foolishness ! 
It  is  I,  Daoud,  with  Sid'  Aylmer  and  thine  employer !" 

The  rifle  muzzles  were  lowered;  the  horsemen  drew 
aside,  and  the  two  white-clad  figures  led  again.  A  minute 
later  Aylmer  reined  in  his  horse,  and  raised  his  helmet  at 
Miss  Van  Arlen's  side.  Daoud,  with  a  self-satisfied 
smile,  was  understood  to  explain  that  owing  to  his  un- 
paralleled management  the  expedition  had  resulted  in  an 
unprecedented  success. 

The  girl's  eyes  were  raised  questioningly,  first  to  her 
father's  face,  and  then  doubtfully,  almost,  indeed,  un- 
willingly, to  Aylmer's.  She  bowed  to  him  coolly,  not 
ungraciously,  but  with  no  effect  of  welcome.  He  sat 
silent,  watching  as  she  listened  to  the  explanation  which 
the  elder  man  gave  in  a  rapid  undertone. 

She  made  no  comment  till  he  finished,  but  at  the  first 
mention  of  Landon's  name  she  unconsciously,  as  it 
seemed,  edged  her  horse  in  a  direction  which  took  her 
away  from  Aylmer  and  closer  to  her  small  nephew,  who 
sat  on  his  gray  donkey,  staring  at  the  newcomers  with 
the  frank  astonishment  of  childhood.  Aylmer  noticed 
the  movement.  Was  it  instinctive  maternal  impulse 
which  drew  her  to  her  charge  when  she  heard  that 
danger  threatened  him?  Or  was  it  antipathy  for  him- 
self —  the  antipathy  which  long  prejudice  had  given 


THE    FIRST    TRICK    IS    LOST         85 

her  for  all  who  bore  her  brother-in-law's  dishonored 
name  ?  The  shadow  of  doubt  clouded  his  eyes,  but  his 
lips  grew  hard  and  resolute.  Despard,  if  he  had  been 
there,  would  have  recognized  the  symptoms.  It  was 
with  that  expression  that  Aylmer  had  led  his  guns  into 
action  on  Colenso's  already  forgotten  day  of  blood. 

But  as  Mr.  Van  Arlen's  narrative  continued,  the  girl's 
features  relaxed.  She  turned  and  for  the  second  time 
looked  at  Aylmer,  doubtfully,  indeed,  but  with  the 
doubt  of  one  who  reconsiders,  whose  verdict  is  shaken 
by  appeal. 

"Captain  Aylmer  has  been  at  considerable  trouble  to 
warn  us,"  she  said. 

Aylmer  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  said  quietly.  "The  warning  I  brought  you 
was  only  part  of  my  obvious  duty.  Surely  you  see  that  ?" 

There  was  a  queer  note  of  feeling  below  the  restraint 
in  his  voice.  She  recognized  it  and  interest  grew  in  her 
glance.  She  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"After  all,  you  have  put  yourself  out  to  assist  us  in 
what  is  solely  our  own  hazard,"  she  protested.  But 
there  was  something  in  her  look  which  seemed  to  put  the 
emphasis  of  her  words  awry.  Was  she  hinting  that  he 
might  have  minded  his  own  business,  or  was  she  prick- 
ing his  sense  of  honor  purposely,  to  judge  him  out  of  his 
own  mouth. 

"I  thought  of  your  hazard,  truly  enough,"  he  an- 
swered slowly.  "  I  was  thinking,  perhaps  more  earnestly, 
of  my  own  and  my  family's  reputation.  You  forget  that 
if  you  and  your  father  have  a  heavy  reckoning  against 
my  cousin,  his  own  kinsmen,  whom  I  represent,  con- 
sider that  theirs  is  no  lighter." 

She  considered  him  gravely. 


86  THE    PURSUIT 

"No,"  she  answered  quietly.  "No,  I  did  not  get  that 
point  of  view.  I  did  not  even  believe  it  a  possible  one, 
amongst  Aylmers.  There  I  have  to  ask  your  forgiveness." 

There  was  the  hint  of  a  smile  lurking  in  her  eyes, 
something  that  hinted  that  she  exaggerated  in  saying 
this  and  knew  it.  But  there  was  perfect  seriousness  in 
his  reply. 

"That  is  taken  for  granted.  And  my  position  in  this 
matter  is  taken  for  granted,  too?" 

She  looked  at  him  questioningly  again  and  then  at  her 
father.  The  latter  smiled. 

"Captain  Aylmer  has  his  own  grudge  against  this 
child's  father.  He  offers  us  his  co-operation." 

"And  I  ask  for  the  friendly  treatment  of  an  ally," 
added  Aylmer,  quietly. 

Her  look  was  still  doubtful  and,  unconsciously,  per- 
haps, she  frowned. 

"  Considering  what  we  already  owe  you  —  "  she  be- 
gan. He  interrupted  with  a  gesture. 

"You  owe  me  nothing,"  he  said.  "If  you  reckon 
profit  and  loss  in  your  dealings  with  Aylmers,  you  have 
a  wide  balance  against  you.  All  I  want  is  your  friendly 
tolerance,  while  I  pay  in  instalments." 

She  still  seemed  to  ponder  his  proposal,  to  review  it 
with  the  interest  of  a  curiosity  which  has  been  imper- 
fectly fed. 

"What  is  your  ultimate  goal,  then?"  she  asked. 

He  hesitated.  A  queer  glint  of  passion  shone  in  his 
eyes  to  sink  into  shadow  again. 

"My  goal  is  the  trapping  of  Landon  into  an  English 
gaol,  for  espionage  and  robbery.  Or  —  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders  meaningly. 

"Or?" 


THE    FIRST    TRICK    IS    LOST         87 

"  Or  his  death,"  he  said,  in  very  distinct,  level  tones. 

"Ah!"  The  exclamation  came  from  her  almost  un- 
consciously. Her  face  shone  with  a  sudden  alertness, 
her  expression  warmed,  her  eyes  grew  bright. 

"You  would  not  hesitate  —  at  that?"   she  demanded. 

Mr.  Van  Arlen  made  a  little  inarticulate  murmur  of 
protest ;  his  hand  was  stretched  towards  her  with  appeal. 

She  disregarded  it.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  piercingly  on 
Aylmer's  face. 

He  met  her  glance  with  matter-of-factness. 

"I  should  not  hesitate,  if  need  arose,"  he  said. 

She  drew  a  long  breath.    Her  features  relaxed. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  gravely.  "  Now  I  know  where 
we  stand.  And  then  —  that  is  all  ?" 

This  time  it  was  his  eyes  which  held  hers  with  insist- 
ence, almost  with  menacing,  she  told  herself. 

"No,"  he  said  quietly.  "That  is  — not  all.  But 
that,  for  the  present,  is  enough." 

For  a  moment  her  heart  seemed  to  halt  in  its  beat, 
the  blood  rushed  to  her  face,  the  pulse  of  anger  which 
leaped  through  her  gave  her  a  queer  sense  of  choking. 
For  she  understood.  Incredible,  monstrous,  as  his  pur- 
pose appeared  in  the  light  of  her  loathing  of  those  who 
bore  his  name,  she  had  not  misread  it.  His  words? 
They  were  possibly  nebulous.  But  his  eyes?  No.  No 
woman  could  misunderstand  that  look.  Steadfast, 
patient,  determined  —  the  unswerving  gaze  of  the  pio- 
neer who  sees  the  unseen  goal  with  the  eye  of  faith,  and 
sees  it  won. 

She  wheeled  her  mule  with  a  fierce  drag  of  the  rein; 
her  spur  found  its  flank  and  forced  it  forward.  She  felt 
morally  stunned  by  this  —  this  insolence ;  mere  words 
could  not  meet  it.  For  the  moment  she  felt  herself 


88  THE    PURSUIT 

deprived  of  weapons  by  the  unexpectedness  of  the 
attack. 

Her  movement  set  the  whole  party  in  motion.  Her 
father  reined  up  to  her  side.  She  stole  a  half  glance  at 
his  face.  There  was  a  queer,  partly  grim,  partly  puzzled 
expression  on  it,  but  she  read,  too,  a  glint  of  humor? 
Her  exasperation  rose.  Her  father,  even  ?  Had  he  gone 
over  to  the  enemy;  could  she  no  longer  reckon  that  his 
support  would  not  crumble  from  resentment  into 
laughter?  Oh,  this  imperturbable  Englishman  should 
pay  for  this!  If  there  was  one  shaft  of  gall  left  in  her 
woman's  armory,  he  should  pay!  The  insolence  of  the 
man  —  the  unparalleled  insolence ! 

Behind  her  she  heard  his  voice,  addressed  to  Absalaam 
in  trivial  inquiry.  She  felt  an  overwhelming  desire  to 
forestall  the  answer  with  indignant  words  of  bitter  loath- 
ing. His  impassibility  excited  her  —  the  serenity  with 
which  he  passed  back,  as  it  were,  to  little  things  after 
launching  such  a  bomb.  She  gave  a  shiver  of  passion, 
or,  perhaps,  fear  had  its  place  in  her  emotion.  There 
was  something  relentless  in  his  attitude,  something 
uncompromising. 

Absalaam's  answer  was  forestalled,  but  not  by  her. 
Little  John  Aylmer's  voice  rang  out,  shrill  with  the  joy 
of  discovery. 

"The  brown  man!"  he  cried  rapturously.  "The 
brown  man!" 

The  other  John  Aylmer  looked  up.  A  couple  of  men 
had  come  into  sudden  view  round  a  corner  of  the  track. 
A  clump  of  Spanish  broom  had  hidden  their  approach; 
they  gave  an  exclamation  of  alarm  as  they  met  the  glances 
of  the  riders  not  thirty  yards  away. 

One  Aylmer  recognized  at  once.    He  was  the  man  of 


THE    FIRST    TRICK    IS    LOST         89 

the  pier,  the  would-be  kidnapper  whose  purpose  he  him- 
self had  frustrated  at  the  moment  of  success. 

The  other  man  made  a  movement  to  cover  his  face 
with  the  hood  of  his  djelab,  but  by  some  apparent  un- 
adroitness  let  it  fall  further  back.  And  so  revealed  his 
identity. 

It  was  Landon  —  brought  to  a  sudden  halt  by  sur- 
prise. 

Through  a  pregnant  instant  of  silence  they  confronted 
one  another.  Then  Aylmer  spurred  forward  with  a 
shout. 

"Don't  let  them  escape!"  he  roared.  "A  hundred 
dollars  to  the  man  who  takes  him!" 

The  two  fugitives  turned  and  ran  desperately  down 
the  path,  seeking  wildly  for  an  opening  in  the  surround- 
ing jungle.  Surprise  and  terror  appeared  to  have  dazed 
them,  for  they  passed  several  avenues  of  escape  heed- 
lessly, made  half-hearted  attempts  to  turn,  and  still 
blundered  on  between  the  caging  walls  of  green.  Aylmer 
thundered  behind  them,  drawing  nearer  with  every 
stride.  He  leaned  forward  in  the  saddle;  his  arm 
reached  out  within  a  yard  of  Landon's  flying  draperies; 
he  spurred  fiercely  into  his  horse's  flanks. 

The  two  men  leaped  right  and  left  into  the  green 
thicket  as  divers  leap  into  the  blue.  And  in  the  same 
instant  something  rose  out  of  the  earth  —  something 
thin,  snake-like,  starting  suddenly  into  being,  as  it  were, 
from  the  concealing  smother  of  the  dust  into  a  rigid  line 
knee  high.  Aylmer's  horse  stumbled,  shot  forward,  and 
went  down  heavily.  His  rider  was  flung  far  beyond  him, 
moved  spasmodically  once,  and  then  lay  still.  The 
squadron  of  charging  horsemen  were  trapped  in  their 
turn.  Not  one  escaped.  The  goad  of  Aylmer's  bribe 


go  THE    PURSUIT 

had  sent  every  man  of  them  charging  in  the  wake  of  his 
leadership.  The  taut-held  rope  accounted  for  them  all, 
or  for  all  save  one.  Absalaam,  a  consummate  horseman, 
reined  in  on  the  brink  of  disaster,  rearing  his  stallion 
high  into  the  air. 

The  road  was  an  inferno  of  yelling  men  and  blood- 
stained horses. 

The  few  Moors  who  were  not  stunned  and  incapaci- 
tated by  their  fall  had  to  endure  the  perils  of  half  a  hun- 
dred wildly  struggling  hoofs.  Scarcely  six  out  of  the 
score  who  had  thundered  so  carelessly  after  their  easy 
quarry  fought  a  way  for  themselves  out  of  the  me'le'e 
unharmed. 

And  of  those  six  there  was  not  one  who  did  not  come 
to  a  sudden  halt  with  uplifted  fingers  as  they  gained  the 
open  road.  A  revolver  barrel  was  pointed  at  each  man's 
breast. 

Ten  or  a  dozen  men  had  emerged  from  the  thicket. 
They  used  no  words;  their  fingers,  significantly  pressed 
upon  the  triggers,  were  eloquent  enough.  Only  one 
spoke  —  Landon,  who  strolled  slowly  and  panting  a 
little  into  the  circle  which  the  menace  of  his  underlings 
had  formed. 

He  halted  opposite  Claire  Van  Arlen. 

"Eh,  sister-in-law!"  he  chuckled  smilingly. 

Her  face  was  white,  but  her  hand,  which  gripped  the 
reins,  was  steady.  And  her  gaze  burnt  upon  his  face  in 
loathing  and  contempt. 

"Rather  neat?"  said  Landon,  amiably.  "I  plume 
myself.  My  resources  were  limited,  you  see.  I  may 
congratulate  myself  upon  having  used  them  to  the  very 
best  advantage." 

Still  she  was  silent  and  still  her  eyes  flung  him  their 


THE    FIRST    TRICK    IS    LOST         91 

message  of  hate.  He  gave  a  pleasant  little  laugh.  He 
made  a  significant  jerk  of  the  head  in  the  direction  of  the 
chaos  behind  him. 

"And  the  virtuous  cousin,"  he  said.  "What  a  fall  is 
there,  is  there  not?  A  hundred  dollars!  He  actually 
appraised  my  poor  liberty  so  high !" 

For  a  moment  the  expression  in  her  glance  changed  as 
she  turned  it  in  the  direction  of  the  still  struggling  horses 
and  their  riders.  He  saw  it  and  laughed  again. 

"You  divide  your  anxieties,"  he  said.  "Let  me  re- 
lieve you  of  one!" 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  and  laid  it  gently  upon  his 
son's  shoulder.  "Are  you  coming  with  your  father  —  to 
ride  the  black  horse  upon  the  sands?"  he  asked. 

The  child  looked  at  him  debatingly.  His  face  lit  up  at 
the  question,  and  then  shadowed  again  as  he  turned  his 
glance  upon  the  motionless  white  figure  on  the  mule 
beside  him. 

"Auntie  won't  have  it  —  and  Selim,"  he  deplored. 

"Won't  they?"  said  Landon,  good-humoredly.  "I 
think  they  will." 

He  stared  up  in  the  girl's  face  with  insolent  satisfaction. 

"In  fact,"  he  went  on,  "they've  got  to.  Vulgarly, 
my  boy,  they  may  not  like  it,  so  they  must  lump  it." 

He  made  a  gesture  of  command. 

"Come,  my  son!"  he  said,  motioning  him  to  dis- 
mount. 

A  tension  broke.  She  lifted  up  her  riding-whip  and 
struck  hard  at  him,  struck  with  the  concentrated  strength 
of  passion  and  despair.  He  leaped  aside,  but  the  end 
of  the  lash  reached  him  and  left  a  staring  weal  of  red 
upon  his  cheek. 

He  cursed  aloud ;  he  made  as  if  he  would  spring  at  her. 


92  THE    PURSUIT 

A  warning  cry  came  from  behind  him ;  half  a  dozen 
revolver  shots  rang  out  upon  the  evening  air. 

Absalaam,  sitting  stark  upon  his  stallion,  covered  by 
the  revolvers  which  encircled  him,  had  struck  his  spurs 
against  his  horse's  flank.  The  fire  in  the  animal's  blood 
had  responded  in  a  great  leap  forward.  Landon  wheeled 
round  to  see,  towering  above  him,  man  and  horse,  loom- 
ing gigantic  against  the  glare  of  the  sunset.  Instinctively, 
automatically,  he  threw  up  the  muzzle  of  his  own  re- 
volver, and  fired  full  at  the  Moor's  broad  chest. 

The  other  bullets  flew  wide,  but  that  one,  so  near  was 
the  human  target,  had  no  room  to  miss.  Absalaam  fell 
limply,  heavily  from  the  saddle,  fell  at  his  mistress's 
feet.  The  horse  tore  past  a  dozen  restraining  hands 
into  liberty. 

There  was  shouting,  confusion,  the  rattle  of  other 
shots.  And  then  the  voice  of  the  brown  djelabed  man 
thundered  out  high  above  the  uproar. 

"  In  God's  name,  Sidi,  have  haste.  Four  of  them  have 
fled  into  the  thicket!  God  alone  knows  what  help  they 
may  bring  their  fellows  and  how  soon!" 

And  Landon,  who  had  been  flung  to  his  knees  in  the 
dust,  rose  swiftly,  without  another  word  snatched  his 
son  from  the  saddle,  and  led  the  way  into  the  jungle. 

In  five  short  minutes  he  had  come,  conquered,  and 
gone.  He  had  won  every  trick,  every  trick!  Claire 
passed  her  hand  across  her  brow  as  she  stared  at  the 
huddle  of  wounded  and  —  she  shuddered  in  agony  as 
the  thought  thrilled  —  perchance  the  dead !  What  lay 
within  that  ring  of  broken  bodies  —  what  ?  With  white 
lips  and  fear-brimmed  eyes  she  slipped  from  her  saddle 
to  see. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AYLMER  IS   EXPLICIT 

IT  seemed  to  Aylmer  that  the  world  into  which  he 
woke  was  one  of  stillness,  of  neutral  tints,  of  intrinsic 
peace.  There  was  a  hint  of  sunshine  diluted  by  the  green 
hangings  in  front  of  the  windows,  but  no  more  than  a 
hint.  There  was  a  faint  echo  of  the  sound  of  falling  water 
floating  in  with  the  light,  but  merely  an  echo.  There 
was,  in  fact,  but  the  slightest  suggestion  of  life  in  his  sur- 
roundings, and  that  came  from  the  silently  regular  rise 
and  fall  of  the  bosom  of  the  sleeping  man  who  sat  at  his 
bedside.  Aylmer  blinked  and  stared  in  mild  surprise, 
for  the  man  was  Daoud. 

He  moved  restlessly  under  the  sheets.  Where  was 
he?  Into  what  unsought  refuge  had  Fate  flung  him 
now? 

His  movement,  slight  as  it  was,  aroused  the  Moor. 
With  a  little  self-reproachful  exclamation  he  stood  up 
and  leaned  over  the  bed. 

"Oh,  Sidi!"  he  cried,  "it  rejoices  my  heart  to  read 
the  light  of  understanding  in  your  eyes." 

Aylmer  blinked  again  bewilderedly. 

"Where  am  I  and  what  do  you  here?"  he  asked. 

"You  are  in  Villa  Eulalia,  Sidi,  and  where  should  I  be 
but  in  attendance  on  my  lord?" 

Astonishment  lifted  Aylmer  into  a  weak  attempt  to 
rise.  The  Moor  put  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder  and  firmly 
pressed  him  back. 


94  THE    PURSUIT 

"Nay,  Sidi,"  he  said  respectfully.  "The  German 
doctor  lord  expressly  forbade  that  you  should  raise  your 
head  from  the  pillow  till  he  had  seen  you  again." 

Aylmer  began  to  feel  as  if  his  wits  as  well  as  his  body 
had  been  bludgeoned.  Circumstances  seemed  to  have 
leaped  freakishly  beyond  his  recollection. 

"I  was  brought  here  when?"   he  asked. 

"Yesterday,  Sidi.  Your  brain  was  sorely  smitten  inside 
your  skull,  or  so  I  understood  the  man  of  medicines.  For 
fifteen  hours  you  have  lain  as  one  feigning  death,  though 
breathing.  Now  you  have  come  into  the  right  of  your 
senses  again.  This  the  medicine  man  also  prophesied." 

The  puzzled  frown  stayed  on  Aylmer's  brow. 

"And  you  ? "   he  demanded.    " And  you  ? " 

The  Moor  answered  with  a  demure  shrug  of  the 
shoulder. 

"Your  wounded  brain  has  perchance  forgotten,  Sidi, 
that  I  entered  your  benign  service  on  the  morning  of  the 
day  which  saw  you  defeated  by  the  treachery  of  that  one 
whom  we  sought,  you  and  I.  My  service  has  been 
constant  ever  since." 

He  met  his  victim's  increasing  frown  with  complacent 
assurance  as  he  spoke.  Surely  everything,  he  seemed  to 
imply,  was  in  order.  And  as  the  situation  became  clear 
to  Aylmer's  growing  intelligence,  the  frown  became  an 
exasperated  smile. 

"You  have  used  my  helplessness  to  impose  yourself 
into  this  house  as  my  body-servant,"  said  Aylmer.  "Oh, 
Daoud,  you  are  of  a  deceitfulness  beyond  my  unprac- 
tised powers  of  speech." 

"Speech  beyond  the  mere  limits  of  necessity  was 
strongly  discountenanced  by  the  German  doctor  lord," 
said  Daoud,  hastily.  "  Has  the  Sidi  any  further  desires  ?" 


AYLMER    IS    EXPLICIT  95 

"  None,  save  for  information.  Speak  thou !  Give  me 
the  plain  tale  of  all  happenings  since  I  fell  into  that  trap 
upon  the  road.  The  man  we  sought  —  did  he  escape?" 

The  Moor  nodded. 

"He  escaped  victoriously,  with  all  his  following.  He 
took  also  the  child,  the  Sidi  Jan,  who,  so  they  tell  me,  is 
the  son  of  his  house.  They  took  themselves  unmolested 
into  the  tangle  of  the  broom,  leaving  of  our  company  one 
dead  —  from  the  kick  of  a  horse,  Sidi  —  half  a  dozen 
senseless,  yourself  among  them,  Absalaam  grievously 
wounded  in  the  bosom,  though  like  to  recover,  and  all, 
save  four  or  five,  with  bruises,  broken  limbs,  or,  at  least, 
frayed  and  bleeding  skin.  So  they  fled,  but  Ali,  of  the 
Walad  Said,  who  had  been  flung  away  from  the  hardness 
of  the  open  track  into  the  heart  of  the  thicket,  had  taken 
no  harm  and  followed  them  to  the  caves." 

Aylmer  gave  a  start. 

"The  caves?"   he  muttered  weakly.    "The  caves?" 

"The  Sidi  knows  them  well.  The  caves  of  Hercules 
beyond  Spartel,  where  the  millstone  carvers  ply  their 
toil  and  where  the  Sidi  and  other  Nazrani  ride  forth  to 
eat  and  drink  upon  occasion  when  they  entertain  their 
friends." 

Aylmer  nodded.  The  caves  of  Hercules  are  the  resort 
of  many  a  picnic  party  from  Tangier. 

"Leaving  them  there,  he  hastened  back  with  news. 
The  Sidi  Van  Arlen,  lord  of  this  house,  was  by  then  re- 
covered of  the  stunning  which  he,  too,  had  suffered,  and 
weak  though  he  was  immediately  led  forth  another  com- 
pany to  search  the  caves.  And  this  they  did  unsuccess- 
fully, Sidi,  learning  from  one  of  the  millstone  workers, 
who  had  doubted  of  the  integrity  of  these  sons  of  dirt 
before  they  saw  him,  and  who  had  therefore  hidden  him- 


g6  THE    PURSUIT 

self  and  watched  them  unseen,  that  after  a  rest  of  three 
or  four  hours  the  men,  taking  with  them  the  child,  had 
passed  down  to  the  shore,  had  there  awaited  and  been 
taken  off  by  a  boat  which  delivered  them,  so  he  con- 
ceived, to  a  lateen  which  he  could  descry  in  the  moon- 
light about  three  furlongs  out.  And  in  that  ship  they 
have  gone  we  know  not  whither." 

Aylmer's  fingers  clenched  and  unclenched  upon  the 
coverlet.  How  thoroughly,  how  absolutely,  they  had 
been  bested  !  But  the  account  was  rolling  up.  Ultimate 
defeat?  His  mind  never  even  considered  it.  He  merely 
put  another  item  in  the  mental  ledger  from  which  Lan- 
don's  account  would  one  day  be  presented,  and  paid,  in 
full. 

"Let  not  the  Sidi  imagine  that  we  have  sat  inactive 
while  these  sons  of  unchaste  mothers  triumph.  I  myself 
snatched  a  hasty  hour  from  your  bedside  to  enter  the 
town  and  set  certain  ones  agog  for  news.  The  Sidi  Van 
Arlen  hath  telegraphed  to  Spain;  every  Guardia  Civile 
along  the  coast  has  knowledge  of  how  a  reward  of  a 
thousand  pesetas  may  be  gained.  By  favor  of  the  cap- 
tain of  the  French  warship  all  other  ships  of  the  French 
marine  within  three  hundred  miles  have  been  warned  to 
challenge  unvouched-for  boats.  How  this  is  done  I  am 
unable  to  say,  but  so  it  is.  Watch  upon  the  seas  is 
therefore  being  kept.  Now  steam  is  being  raised  upon 
the  white  yacht  in  the  bay,  that  when  news  comes  it  may 
be  followed  without  delay.  Lastly,  a  special  mission  has 
been  sent  by  favor  of  the  Bashaw  from  town  to  town  along 
the  coast  as  far  as  Dar-el-Baida.  Thus  have  we  set  a 
wide  net.  Yet  it  has  holes  in  it,  Sidi,  and  holes  are  what 
these  jackals  are  ever  quick  to  seek." 

With  a  sudden  movement,  Aylmer  sat  up.     A  frown 


AYLMER    IS    EXPLICIT  97 

and  a  gesture  of  command  warded  back  Daoud's  out- 
stretched hand. 

"Art  thou  my  servant  ?"  he  cried,  and  the  Moor  spread 
out  his  palms  in  alert  assent. 

"Of  a  surety,  Sidi,  but  the  dispenser  of  medicines  —  " 

"What  have  I  to  do  with  medicines  —  I,  a  strong  man 
with  no  more  than  a  bruised  skull  ?  Give  me  my  clothes ! " 

"But,  Sidi—" 

"My  clothes,  or  return  instantly  to  the  gutter  from 
which  my  favor  yesterday  lifted  you !  " 

The  Moor  gave  a  fatalistic  shrug. 

"If  Allah  has  written  it  that  you  are  to  die  by  the 
weapon  of  thine  own  obstinacy,  oh,  Sidi,  He  has  written 
it.  This  is  thy  shirt." 

With  an  accustomedness  which  spoke  of  previous 
practice,  he  presided  over  his  master's  toilet.  He  fetched 
water,  honed  a  razor,  shaved  Aylmer  with  deftness  and 
despatch,  produced  trousers  from  a  press,  handed  coat 
and  waistcoat  brushed  and  folded  to  the  last  pinnacle  of 
neatness.  It  was  as  he  laced  the  boots  that  he  looked  up 
inquiringly  and  put  a  question  which  had  been  obviously 
hanging  upon  his  lips  since  the  moment  of  his  master's 
rising. 

"And  what,  oh,  Sidi,  are  your  intentions  now?" 

"First,  to  see  my  host.  Afterwards,"  he  made  a  vague 
gesture,  "afterwards,  my  friend,  I  shall  act  as  is  directed 
by  your  perpetual  gossip  —  Fate ! " 

"May  Allah  direct  our  councils!"  aspired  Daoud, 
piously.  "Lean  upon  me,  Sidi!  There  is  no  need  to 
overtax  thy  returning  strength ! " 

But  Aylmer  leaned  upon  nothing.  Slowly,  but  walking 
erect,  he  paced  across  the  wide  entrance  hall,  and  then 
halted,  indeterminate. 

7 


98  THE    PURSUIT 

The  hangings  across  a  door  opposite  him  were  drawn 
aside.  Claire  Van  Arlen  stood  confronting  him,  her  lips 
parted  in  amazement. 

"You!"  she  protested  breathlessly.    "You!" 

He  answered  with  a  little  bow. 

"  Myself,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Imust  present  my  excuses 
for  an  ...  intrusion  which  it  was  not  within  my  power 
to  prevent." 

She  held  up  her  hand  in  protest. 

"When  you  were  wounded  in  our  service !"  she  cried. 
"When  you  were  doing  your  best  for  us ! " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  said.  "I  am  working,  I  shall  go  on  working, 
for  myself.  I  should  like  that  to  be  clear." 

She  half  turned  away  with  a  little  startled  motion  and 
the  ghost  of  a  frown.  Words  trembled  on  her  lips  and 
were  thrust  back.  She  understood,  and  would  have 
sought,  at  any  other  time,  this  opportunity  to  make 
things  clear  indeed,  but  .  .  .  the  man  was  wounded  .  .  . 
serving  her  and  hers.  No,  for  the  moment  the  oppor- 
tunity must  go  by. 

She  held  up  the  cord  hangings  and  pointed  into  the 
room  behind  her. 

"At  any  rate  you  must  not  stand,  and  I  am  extremely 
culpable  to  permit  your  mutiny  against  your  doctor's 
orders.  Why  have  you  got  up?" 

He  strode  slowly  after  her  into  the  shadowed  room. 
He  sat  down  upon  the  wicker  chair  which  she  indicated. 
His  eyes  sought  hers,  keenly  and  very  directly. 

"You  have  no  news?"  he  asked.  "Nothing  out  of 
Spain,  or  from  the  coast?" 

Her  eyes  clouded. 

"None,  or  next  to  none.    The  signal  station  at  Spartel 


AYLMER    IS    EXPLICIT  99 

saw  a  lateen  working  her  sweeps  in  the  distance  at  dawn. 
There  was  a  glassy  calm  inshore,  but  occasional  and  un- 
certain breezes  out  of  the  shelter  of  the  land.  She  was 
making  as  if  for  Cadiz,  but  half  an  hour  later,  just  as  the 
haze  covered  her,  a  strong  wind  rose  from  the  northwest 
and  it  is  doubtful  if  she  could  have  beaten  up  against  it. 
In  which  case  she  probably  stood  down  the  coast." 

Her  voice  was  apathetic  and  a  little  weary.  Her  glance 
avoided  his. 

He  gave  a  little  nod  as  she  finished. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "He  has  taken  the  first  trick  — 
Landon.  And  I  have  been  no  help  to  you  but  a  hindrance. 
It  was  I  who  helped  him  last  night  —  I,  with  my  im- 
pulsiveness. There  you  have  a  right  ...  to  suspect 
me." 

She  made  a  quick,  restless  movement. 

"Suspect  you!"  she  cried.    "You!" 

"Yes,"  he  said  slowly.  "That  day  in  the  town,  and 
on  the  pier,  at  the  Tent  Club  meeting,  even  —  was  not 
that  in  your  mind?" 

His  voice  was  not  reproachful,  merely  inquiring. 

She  flushed. 

"The  first  time  I  suspected  every  one,"  she  answered. 
"The  second  time  I  discovered,  suddenly  and  unex- 
pectedly, your  name." 

He  nodded. 

"  And  now  ?  "  he  questioned.    "  And  now  ?  " 

"Now?"  she  repeated.  "Have  you  not  given  me 
my  proofs?" 

"Havel?"  His  voice  was  eager.  "  I  can  reckon  that 
barrier  down  then?  The  taint  of  the  name  is  cleared 
away?  I  start  with  no  handicap  of  prejudice?" 

Again  the  form  of  words  half  bewildered,  half  exas- 


ioo  THE    PURSUIT 

perated  her.  Start  ?  Start  whither,  in  what  race,  to  what 
goal?  And  were  there  barriers  to  be  won,  too?  Be- 
tween him  and  —  what  ? 

Her  instinct  gave  her  the  answer  as  it  had  done  the  day 
before.  But  she  shrank  from  the  acknowledgment,  even 
to  herself.  The  thought  was  too  monstrous.  An  Aylmer 
and  —  and  that !  The  blood  rushed  to  her  forehead  on 
the  tide  of  her  resentment.  And  then  as  suddenly  ebbed. 
After  all,  was  it  not  the  name  alone  which  sent  that  surg- 
ing throb  of  repulsion  through  her  veins?  Supposing 
she  had  met  this  man,  in  ignorance.  She  started  again. 
Had  she  not  so  met  him,  at  first?  She  cudgelled  her 
brains  in  reflection.  How  did  she  regard  him  that  morn- 
ing at  the  Tent  Club,  before  she  knew?  Had  he  not 
seemed  a  personable,  even  a  gallant  and  courageous 
soldier,  worthy  of  a  woman's  regard?  She  looked  at 
him  suddenly,  curiously,  with  a  sort  of  speculation  in 
her  eyes. 

And  he  met  the  glance  quietly,  watchfully,  and  —  so 
she  told  herself  with  a  recurrent  thrill  of  exasperation  — 
relentlessly  as  well.  It  was  as  if  he  was  forcing  her  to  be 
won  from  prejudice  to  impartiality.  As  if  he  willed  her 
into  just  thinking  against  herself.  A  tiny  spasm  of  fear 
pulsed  through  her.  In  a  clash  of  purpose  who  would 
win,  she  or  this  man? 

She  made  him  a  gesture  which  had  about  it  the  sense 
of  appeal. 

"  One  cannot  dismiss  prejudices ;  one  can  fight  them," 
she  faltered. 

"Ah!" 

He  sighed,  not  with  weariness,  but  with  a  sort  of  pa- 
tience, with  restraint.  "I  think  perhaps  women  do  not 
accept  mere  justice  as  a  plea  so  easily  as  men, "  he  de- 


AYLMER    IS    EXPLICIT  101 

bated.  "So  I  must  not  presume  on  that  footing.  I  have 
still  to  win  my  way  from  .  .  .  dislike?" 

"No!"  she  cried  sharply.  "No!  I  can  be  just  to 
what  you  have  done.  What  you  are  —  that  I  have  yet  to 
learn,  have  I  not?" 

He  smiled  a  little  bitterly. 

"  I  am  an  Aylmer.  That  is  the  lesson  you  have  got  by 
heart.  I  ask  you  to  begin  by  unlearning." 

She  caught  her  breath  a  little  quickly.  Then  she  gave 
a  decided  little  nod. 

"Very  well,"  she  answered.  "I  —  I  will  forget  every- 
thing but  the  fact  that  you  saved  the  boy  once  and  that 
you-" 

"  Will  do  it  again,"  said  Aylmer.    "That  is  a  bargain  ? " 

Again  she  hesitated  over  the  form  of  words.  A  bargain  ? 
What  was  her  side  of  the  contract.  If  he  fulfilled 
the  purpose  of  which  he  spoke  so  confidently,  what 
did  it  mean,  from  her  point  of  view?  She  avoided 
the  issue. 

"You  will  find  the  child,  you  will  bring  him  back?" 
she  wondered. 

"Of  course!"  He  sat  very  erect  in  his  chair.  He 
smiled  confidently.  "In  a  fight  between  a  rogue  and 
honest  men,  the  honest  men  win  ultimately,  and  always. 
The  green  bay  tree  of  the  unrighteous  grows  with  luxu- 
riance but  withers  in  time  inevitably.  I  shall  follow  him 
till  I  win." 

" And  your  career ?"  she  asked  incredulously.  "Your 
profession?" 

He  smiled. 

"That  will  be  my  career  —  to  defeat  Landon.  Is  it  a 
reputable  one  for  a  gentleman  ? " 

She  made  a  motion  of  protest. 


102  THE    PURSUIT 

"  But  —  but  that  is  self-sacrifice,  one  which  we  could  n't 
accept.  Why  should  you  do  this  for  us  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  again. 

"No,"  he  said.  "I  must  repeat  it,  I  work  for  myself. 
I  seek  my  own  interest,  and  that,  in  the  first  place,  is  to 
make  you  just.  I  see  but  the  one  way  to  do  it.  I  have 
to  convince  you  that  I  am  in  earnest,  have  I  not?" 

Again  that  baffling  allusion.  In  earnest  in  what?  In 
defeating  Landon,  in  attempting  the  rescue  of  the  child  ? 
Surely  he  had  proved  that  already.  And  yet  how  could 
she  counter  a  point  which  she  could  not  help  allowing 
she  now  understood;  how  could  she  do  it  without  the 
loss  of  dignity  implied  in  an  explanation  ?  But  it  was 
grotesque.  He  had  known  her  a  bare  week.  He  had 
met  her  on  four  occasions. 

She  looked  up,  met  his  eyes,  and  dropped  her  own.  A 
tiny  sense  of  panic  overtook  her.  He  sat  there,  indomi- 
table. Suppose  —  suppose  he  ultimately  made  his  pur- 
pose good.  She  made  herself  look  at  him  again.  He 
had,  at  any  rate,  good  looks  to  recommend  him.  And 
courage  and  the  respect  of  his  fellows.  But  —  again  a 
wave  of  exasperation  flowed  over  her  mind.  Oh,  it  was 
outrageous,  unthinkable.  An  Aylmer  —  another  Aylmer. 
Unconsciously  her  lips  curved  in  a  half  sarcastic  smile. 
Why,  the  very  newspapers  of  the  world  would  pile  head- 
line upon  headline  over  such  a  fiasco.  She  stiffened 
with  resentment,  with  a  sense  of  being  played  with.  Her 
voice  was  chill  with  a  note  of  dignity  outraged. 

"  I  think  the  fact  of  your  proposing  to  devote  time  and 
strength  to  the  pursuit  of  —  of  your  cousin  is  a  very  con- 
vincing one,  Captain  Aylmer,"  she  answered.  "The 
point  is  that  we  have  no  right  to  accept  so  much  from 
you." 


AYLMER    IS    EXPLICIT  103 

He  smiled  joyously. 

"I  shall  always  want  to  be  giving,  to  you.  Always, 
always.  Please  understand  that.  My  service  is  to  you, 
and  so  to  myself.  Try  to  think  of  me  in  that  light, 
patiently." 

And  then  a  sort  of  desperation  seized  her.  She  probed 
her  mind  for  a  form  of  words  which  should  give  him  no 
further  loophole  to  persist  in  his  veiled  menaces,  for  she 
could  call  them  no  less,  one  that  should  seize  a  meaning 
out  of  his  allusions  and  crush  it  with  a  directness  which 
could  not  be  misunderstood.  Her  eyes  grew  hard;  she 
rose  to  her  feet. 

A  step  sounded  in  the  hall,  and  the  hangings  were 
pushed  aside.  Her  father  stood  before  them. 

He  looked  at  Aylmer  with  amazed  reproach.  His 
face,  already  haggard  with  anxiety,  took  on  new  lines  of 
concern. 

"  My  dear  sir ! "   he  protested.    "  My  dear  sir ! " 

And  Aylmer  could  not  resist  a  smile.  It  was  the  form 
of  protest  which  he  had  used  at  their  former  meeting  to 
veil  —  what  ?  Antipathy  ?  And  now  ?  The  words  were 
full  of  genuine  concern.  He  read  no  longer  dislike  in 
Mr.  Van  Arlen's  glance.  The  elder  man's  eyes  had  soft- 
ened as  they  reached  his. 

He  warded  off  further  reproaches  with  a  question. 

"The  news  ?"  he  cried  eagerly.    " The  news  is  what ?" 

"Good,  in  so  far  that  we  can  gauge  the  direction  of 
their  flight.  They  have  been  seen  passing  Arzeila;  the 
morning's  gale  has  prevented  their  attempt  to  reach  any 
port  of  Spain." 

"And  so—  ?" 

"  And  so  we  start  in  pursuit  with  my  yacht,  within  the 
hour." 


io4  THE   PURSUIT 

Aylmer  stood  up. 

"We?"  he  repeated.     "We  being  —  ?" 

Van  Arlen  looked  mildly  astonished. 

"  My  daughter  and  I." 

Aylmer  held  out  his  hand  with  a  pleading  gesture. 

"  You  can't  afford  to  despise  my  help,"  he  said.  "  You 
must  take  me,  too." 

Van  Arlen  looked  at  Aylmer  and  then,  questioningly, 
towards  his  daughter.  She  met  his  glance.  Here  at 
last  was  the  opportunity  to  make  things  plain  with  a 
vengeance.  They  had  but  politely  to  decline. 

Aylmer's  voice  forestalled  her. 

"To  be  impartial,  that  was  your  promise,"  he  said. 
"We  had  not  got  far,  but  at  least  as  far  as  that." 

In  spite  of  herself  she  turned  and  faced  him.  He  met 
her  glance  steadily,  confidently,  expectant. 

She  gave  a  queer,  half-exasperated  little  laugh. 

"I  think  Captain  Aylmer  is  a  man  who  is  easily  re- 
fused nothing,"  she  said,  and  passed  quietly  out  of  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  X 

BY  FAVOR  OF  THE  FOG 

DO  not  like  this!"    piped  a  small  and  dejected 

JL  voice.  "I  came  to  ride  a  black  horse,  not  to  be 
bumped  in  this  vessel  forgotten  of  God!" 

In  English  these  words  would  have  sounded  strangely 
from  the  lips  of  a  child  of  six,  but  little  John  Aylmer  was 
fluent  in  the  Arab  jargon  of  his  grandfather's  native 
household. 

He  was  sitting  disconsolate  in  the  cockpit  of  the  lateen 
Esmeralda.  His  company  was  Senor  Emilio  Albaceda, 
mariner  and  practical  exponent  of  the  tenets  of  an  un- 
compromising Free  Trade.  From  the  uncovered  hatch 
came  the  sound  of  wind  whistling  in  the  cordage  and  the 
swish  and  thud  of  the  combers  breaking  past.  Upon 
one  of  the  narrow  bunks  which  flanked  the  tiny  cabin 
lay  Landon,  fast  asleep.  A  guttering  and  extremely 
odoriferous  lamp  of  vegetable  oil  was  the  sole  illuminant. 
The  prospects  of  comfort  and  entertainment  in  such 
surroundings  were  not  those  likely  to  appeal  to  a  child 
accustomed  to  luxury  and  constant  attention. 

"Pazienza!"  grunted  the  skipper,  good-humoredly. 
"Black  horses  are  not  found  upon  the  sea,  though  a 
friend  of  mine  who  prefers  the  running  of  contraband  to 
the  priesthood  for  which  his  parents  destined  him,  read 
me  once  verses  from  a  journal  —  true  poetry  in  praise  of 
a  boot  polish  the  name  of  which  does  not  stay  by  me  — 
where  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic  were  likened  unto  stal- 


io6  THE    PURSUIT 

lions  white-maned.  I  confess  I  thought  the  notion 
original." 

The  child  stared  at  him  meditatively. 

"  If  horses  are  not  to  be  found  upon  the  sea  and  we 
seek  horses,  why  do  not  we  forsake  the  sea  for  the  land  ?" 
There  was  a  note  of  anticipation  in  the  query  which 
seemed  to  find  this  argument  conclusive. 

The  smuggler  grinned. 

"Excellently  argued,  son  of  much  intelligence,"  he 
answered.  "Land  is  what  we  shall  seek  when  this  gale 
breathed  from  Jehannum  permits  us  to  do  so  in  safety. 
For  the  moment  we  drive  before  it,  there  being  no  har- 
bors on  this  coast  within  a  thousand  miles." 

The  child  moved  restlessly. 

"Where  then  can  we  land?"  he  demanded. 

"Where  God  and  His  Mother  and  the  Holy  Saints 
permit,"  said  Sefior  Albaceda,  suddenly  reverting  to 
lingua  franca  to  clothe  a  piety  of  sentiment  which  the 
Moslem  religion  ignores.  The  One  Allah's  plans,  being 
laid  from  the  foundation  of  the  world,  are  not  susceptible 
to  the  influences  of  human  appeal. 

Little  John  made  a  grimace  of  hearty  discontent  and 
looked  doubtfully  at  the  sleeping  form  of  his  father. 
But  for  the  moment  distraction  came  from  another 
quarter. 

Two  brown  legs  appeared  in  the  opening  of  the  hatch. 
As  their  owner  lowered  himself  into  the  cabin,  he  dis- 
closed the  features  of  the  man  of  the  brown  djelab  —  he 
who  on  Tangier  pier  had  been  sponsor  for  those  fiery 
but  phantom  steeds  which  Fate  had  not  allowed  to 
materialize.  The  child  received  him  with  a  shrill  little 
shout  of  welcome. 

"  Muhammed ! "  he  cried  gladly.     "  Muhammed  1 " 


BY    FAVOR    OF    THE    FOG  107 

The  Moor  placed  his  lean  finger  upon  the  yellow  curls 
in  a  light  caress,  but  his  look  was  towards  the  berth 
where  Landon  could  be  seen  stirring,  aroused  by  his 
son's  acclamation. 

He  slipped  into  a  sitting  posture  in  front  of  the  tiny 
table  and  leaned  upon  it,  his  chin  supported  by  his  el- 
bows, a  look  of  expectancy  tinged  by  humor  in  his 
eye. 

"Well,  my  friends,"  he  queried  amiably,  "our  news 
is,  what?" 

The  Moor  gave  a  pessimistic  shrug  of  the  shoulder. 

"Bad,  Sidi,"  he  said  tersely.  "We  continue  to  drive 
westwards  as  before." 

Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"We  shall  not  see  Cadiz  to-morrow  nor  the  day  after," 
he  said.  "Well,  the  future  is  spacious.  We  have  infinite 
leisure  before  us  in  which  to  beat  back." 

The  captain  grunted. 

"Leisure  we  have  in  abundance,  but  not  food  nor  yet 
water.  We  must  put  in  somewhere  before  we  attempt  a 
feat  which  will  take,  at  the  best,  three  days  and,  if  Chance 
so  decides,  perhaps  a  fortnight." 

Landon's  face  was  clouded  with  a  sudden  scowl. 

"Food  and  water!  Why  have  you  not  these  in  suffi- 
ciency? Your  terms  are  extortionate  enough  as  it  is 
without  the  makeweight  of  starvation!" 

"My  terms,"  said  Senor  Albaceda,  gruffly,  "were  all 
too  cheap;  what  I  learned  in  Tangier  after  I  had  come 
to  an  agreement  with  you  was  proof  to  me  of  that.  But 
I  am  a  man  of  honor;  I  keep  bargains  duly  made.  I 
contracted  to  set  you  ashore  in  Cadiz  harbor  —  with  a 
favorable  wind  a  one  night's  work.  I  did  not  contract  to 
feed  three  extra  mouths  through  a  voyage  of  weeks. 


io8  THE    PURSUIT 

When  the  wind  moderates,  I  make  for  the  nearest  mar- 
ket, and  you  will  buy  your  own  provisions  for  our  return. 
That  is  well  understood." 

"You  mean  to  land  on  the  African  coast,  not  the 
European?"  cried  Landon. 

"Where  else?"  said  the  skipper,  drily.  "Do  you  ex- 
pect me  to  carry  you  on  to  the  Azores?" 

Landon  looked  questioningly  at  Muhammed.  The 
Moor  made  a  gesture  of  resignation. 

" Mektub,  it  is  written!"  he  answered  fatalistically. 
"Azemmour,  perchance,  or  Mazagan." 

"And  opposite  each  we  shall  find  a  French  cruiser 
anchored,"  growled  Landon,  "with  launches  fussing 
about,  and  every  craft  which  enters  under  suspicion  of 
smuggling  guns  for  the  Chawia.  And  ten  to  one  warning 
about  us  from  Tangier  sent  down  the  coast." 

"That  would  be  a  matter  of  time,"  said  the  Moor. 
"We  have  driven  faster  than  horsemen  could  ride!" 

"Horsemen !"  Landon  smote  the  table  in  his  irritation. 
"These  ships  of  war  have  apparatus  by  which  they  can 
communicate  as  if  a  cable  linked  them.  If  my  father-in- 
law  gets  the  right  side  of  the  commandant  of  the  Tangier 
guardship  —  He  broke  off  with  another  shrug.  "  Well, 
to  each  day  its  appointed  sorrow.  The  gale  has  not 
blown  itself  out  yet." 

"The  event  is  with  Allah!"  said  the  Moor,  gravely. 
He  thrust  his  head  up  through  the  hatch  and  shouted  to 
the  steersman.  A  moment  later  he  dropped  back  into 
the  shelter  of  the  cabin  again. 

"Your  man  Ibrahim  is  of  opinion  that  the  wind  shows 
signs  of  abating.  We  passed  Larache  two  hours  back. 
The  scud  hides  the  shore,  but  he  judges  that  we  are  not 
far  from  Sallee.  If  the  surf  permits,  we  may  get  an- 


BY    FAVOR    OF    THE    FOG  109 

chorage  and  make  a  landing  at  Azemmour.    If  not,  we 
must  dare  Casablanca  or  continue  to  Mazagan." 

Senor  Albaceda  grunted  pessimistically  and  climbed 
lumberingly  on  deck.  Landon  threw  himself  back  on 
the  berth  again.  The  Moor  looked  down  -at  the  child 
with  a  whimsical  expression  of  pity  which  changed  to  a 
benignant  smile  as  the  object  of  it  raised  his  eyes  to 
his. 

"The  Sidi  Jan  has  not  heard  the  marvellous  tale  of  the 
Bashaw  of  Tripoli  and  the  Afreets  of  El  Mut?"  he  sub- 
mitted. "  If  it  is  the  Sidi's  will,  his  servant  will  now  take 
the  opportunity  of  relating  it  to  him?" 

Little  John  Aylmer  answered  with  an  ecstatic  chuckle 
of  delight,  and  wriggled  hurriedly  into  the  encirclement  of 
his  friend's  arm.  Thus  supported,  he  was  able  to  defy 
the  unsettling  influence  of  the  waves  and  give  the  whole 
of  his  attention  to  the  taxing  of  the  Moor's  memory  or, 
when  this  occasionally  failed,  his  very  competent  imagi- 
nation. The  hours  of  the  afternoon  were  passed  agree- 
ably; the  difficulties  of  making  a  meal  without  the 
ordinary  appliances  of  civilization  provided  a  certain 
amount  of  diversion  when  night  fell,  and  afterwards  sleep 
was  paramount.  When  the  child  woke  he  found  the  boat 
running  slowly  upon  an  even  keel,  and  scrambling  on 
deck  was  met  by  the  view  of  a  glassy  swell  surrounding 
her,  but  only  visible  to  the  extent  of  the  few  square  yards 
which  were  enclosed  in  a  veil  of  fog. 

The  skipper  was  at  the  wheel,  and  Ibrahim,  the  deck 
hand,  and  Muhammed  were  seated  side  by  side  in  the 
bows.  They  did  not  peer  into  the  fog  —  a  hopeless  task. 
They  sat  in  a  listening  attitude,  exchanging  a  brief  word 
now  and  again. 

"It  is  certainly  the  drumming  of  a  ship's  screw,"  de- 


no  THE    PURSUIT 

cided  the  sailor,  after  a  moment's  silence.  "It  is  going 
at  half  speed,  behind  us." 

"Let  us  hope  that  Allah  has  not  predestined  us  to  be 
cut  in  twain,"  said  his  companion.  "  But  from  port,  and 
very  regularly,  I  hear  the  beat  of  breakers.  The  swell  is 
rolling  against  a  cliff." 

"A  shore,  not  a  cliff,"  corrected  the  other.  "If  my 
dead  reckoning  is  right  within  a  score  of  miles,  we  are 
opposite  a  beach  of  sand." 

Muhammed  shook  his  head. 

"Nay,  listen  to  that  thud.  The  crest  of  the  comber 
meets  something  flat.  It  does  not  roll,  in  slowly  dying 
foam,  upon  a  strand." 

Ibrahim  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"In  a  fog  we  be  all  blind  men,"  he  said  pessimistically. 
"Let  us  wait  for  the  fulfilment  of  Allah's  plan." 

They  glanced  questioningly  upwards.  As  is  common 
in  these  west  coast  fogs,  the  blanket  of  vapor  was  thin. 
Now  and  again  a  faint  hint  of  blue  above  their  heads 
seemed  to  presage  a  lifting  of  the  mist ;  occasionally,  in- 
deed, the  sun  was  to  be  seen  vaguely  as  a  round  yellow 
ball  of  light,  streaked  by  the  slowly  drifting  scud.  But 
the  gray  walls  on  each  side  of  them  remained  unbroken. 
At  the  same  time  the  beat  of  the  breakers  was  perceptibly 
near. 

Senor  Albaceda  lifted  his  head  from  the  hatch  and  in- 
vited the  maledictions  of  innumerable  Holy  Men  upon 
the  weather.  He  was  understood  to  confess  that  he  did 
not  undertake  to  gauge  their  position  within  a  hundred 
miles. 

"If  Allah's  mercy  would  send  us  an  offshore  wind!" 
aspired  the  pious  Ibrahim,  and  lo !  with  the  word  came 
its  sudden  fulfilment.  The  fog  was  rent  by  a  gust,  to  dis- 


BY    FAVOR    OF    THE    FOG  in 

close,  not  a  couple  of  cable  lengths  distant,  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  smooth  and  painted  crag  of  gray. 

The  two  Moors  addressed  fervent  appeals  to  the  One 
God.  The  Spaniard,  impartially  apostrophizing  the 
tormented  of  Purgatory  and  the  celestially  blessed  to 
hasten  to  his  assistance,  delivered  himself  of  the  opinion 
that  Fate  had  closed  her  iron  hand  upon  them.  Where 
else  could  they  be  than  within  a  mile  of  the  sea  bastions 
of  Casablanca? 

That,  did  they  observe,  was  a  cruiser  —  nay,  possibly 
a  battleship  by  whose  watch  they  had  been  observed 
without  a  shadow  of  a  doubt.  As  the  fog  closed  in  again, 
he  descended  to  the  cabin  where  he  could  be  heard  loudly 
bewailing  the  situation  to  his  passenger,  whom  he  ap- 
peared to  hold  responsible  for  this  and  for  a  fairly  ex- 
tensive list  of  other  inconveniences.  The  captain  of  the 
lateen  Esmeralda  had  obviously  been  warding  off  the 
chill  influences  of  the  fog  by  a  liberal  dose  of  aguardiente. 

Landon  lifted  himself  quickly  to  the  deck.  The  mist 
was  perceptibly  lighter  by  now.  A  beam  of  sunlight 
pierced  it  from  above  and  lit  the  Esmeralda's  deck.  The 
gray  wall  was  still  unbroken  landward,  but  seaward  it 
thinned,  lifted,  rolled  this  way  and  that,  and  finally  dis- 
closed a  shining  plain  of  blue.  The  central  object  in 
this,  a  couple  of  miles  away,  was  a  white,  gleaming 
yacht. 

Landon  swore. 

"The  Morning  Star  — Van  Arlen's  boat,  by  God!" 
he  cried.  He  made  the  helmsman  a  furious  gesture. 
"Into  the  fog  again !"  he  shouted.  "Stick  her  nose  into 
it,  get  out  of  this!" 

"To  beat  out  her  timbers  upon  the  harbor  reef,  or  be 
swamped  beneath  the  bows  of  a  warship!"  screamed 


ii2  THE    PURSUIT 

the  skipper  from  the  hatch.  "Never!  Keep  her  in  the 
light,  son  of  accursed  mothers !  Do  passengers  who  have 
been  born  of  leprous  parents  give  orders  aboard  this 
vessel,  or  I,  Concepcion  Albaceda,  to  whom  the  law 
rightly  adjudges  powers  of  life  and  death  ?" 

He  came  lurching  heavily  aft,  waving  a  case  bottle  by 
the  neck  to  give  emphasis  to  his  commands.  The  be- 
wildered Ibrahim  stared  at  him  owlishly. 

The  next  moment  he  gave  a  cry  of  alarm.  Landon 
had  tripped  the  captain's  unsteady  feet,  and,  aided  by 
Muhammed,  had  taken  him  forward  and  flung  him  into 
the  cockpit.  They  closed  the  hatch,  secured  it,  and  came 
aft  again.  Imperiously  Landon  repeated  his  order. 

The  unfortunate  sailor  still  hesitated.  His  compa- 
triot took  him  firmly  by  the  nape  of  the  neck. 

"Into  the  fog,  child  of  indescribable  unfaithfulness," 
he  commanded,  "  or  become  immediately  bait  for  sharks ! 
Choose!" 

The  bewildered  Ibrahim  brought  round  the  tiller  with 
a  jerk.  Like  a  rabbit  seeking  its  burrow,  the  lateen  dived 
fogwards. 

As  the  gray  wall  surged  up  to  them  again,  they  turned 
and  stared  seaward.  Landon  cursed  loudly.  The 
yacht  was  turning,  too,  straight  towards  them.  At  a 
word  from  his  master,  Muhammed  got  out  the  great 
sweeps  and  invited  Ibrahim  imperiously  to  join  him  in 
working  them.  Landon  took  the  helm. 

Two  minutes  later  there  was  a  crashing  sound  forward 
and  the  bowsprit  splintered  with  a  shock  which  made  the 
little  vessel  shiver  throughout  its  length.  A  muffled  wail 
of  wrath  and  despair  followed  from  the  depths  of  the 
cockpit. 

The  wall  of  gray  was  towering  above  them.    Over  the 


BY    FAVOR    OF    THE    FOG  113 

bulwarks  of  the  R.  F.  Cruiser  Diomdde  a  lieutenant 
looked  down  and  anathematized  them  with  a  versatility 
only  acquired  by  a  true  son  of  the  sea.  Landon  bowed, 
smiled,  and  in  perfect  French,  asked  the  liberty  of  being 
permitted  to  come  aboard. 

The  lieutenant,  surprised  beyond  measure  to  hear  the 
accents  of  the  Faubourg  from  the  decks  of  such  an  un- 
promising craft,  hastened  to  forget  the  collision  between 
the  Esmeralda's  bowsprit  and  the  Diomede's  paint,  and 
directed  his  petitioner  to  find  the  companion  ladder.  A 
minute's  groping  in  the  fog,  and  Landon  stood  upon  the 
cruiser's  deck. 

He  bowed  elaborately.  The  lieutenant  returned  the 
bow  and  motioned  him  towards  the  quarter-deck.  The 
captain  came  forward  to  receive  him,  smiling  amiably. 

"I  must  be  perfectly  frank  with  you,  Monsieur  le  Com- 
mandant," said  Landon,  returning  the  smile.  "I  come 
to  beg  assistance.  My  yacht  is  in  harbor  here,  as  you 
are  possibly  aware.  No?  The  fog  has  hidden  us;  we 
came  in  last  night.  With  my  little  son,  I  went  ashore 
early  this  morning  to  leave  a  card  on  General  d'Amade, 
to  whom  I  have  an  introduction.  I  missed  my  own  boat 
at  the  landing-place  and  was  foolish  enough  to  be  per- 
suaded to  embark  with  these  imbeciles  below,  of  whom 
one  is  drunk  and  the  other  witless.  I  have  already  had 
an  hour  of  monotonous  adventure  in  the  gloom ;  I  am  a 
little  tired  of  being  very  reasonably  cursed  by  master 
mariners  whose  vessels  we  have  been  ambitious  enough 
to  ram.  It  struck  me  that  perchance  you  would  be  send- 
ing a  boat  ashore  within  the  course  of  an  hour  or  so,  and 
might  permit  me  to  wait  on  deck  and  be  a  passenger  in  it. 
If  so,  my  gratitude  would  be  beyond  words.  It  is  not  only 
for  myself.  My  little  son  is  delicate;  I  do  not  wish  to 

8 


ii4  THE    PURSUIT 

expose  him  longer  than  is  necessary  to  the  chill  of  these 
vile  vapors." 

Commandant  Rattier  smiled  again,  expressed  his  pleas- 
ure in  being  able  to  offer  assistance  to  any  Englishman  — 
he  himself  was  united  to  that  nation  by  ties  of  blood. 
He  would  order  away  his  launch  immediately.  In  the 
meantime  une  limonade  Ecossaise  would  combat  the 
effect  of  chill  and  mist.  Monsieur  would  descend  to 
the  cabin,  would  accept  some  small  refreshment  ? 

Monsieur  overflowed  with  thanks.  He  would  dismiss 
the  villains  who  had  led  him  into  such  a  coil,  and  then 
hold  himself  at  M.  le  Commandant's  service. 

He  leaned  over  and  gave  his  orders.  Muhammed 
turned  to  Ibrahim. 

"Remove  yourself  and  your  master,  oh,  son  of  dirt, 
from  these  surroundings  with  the  utmost  speed,  or  I  have 
the  promise  of  the  captain  of  this  warship  that  he  will 
send  you  in  chains  ashore  to  answer  for  your  crime  in  wil- 
fully colliding  with  his  vessel.  Your  bowsprit?  What 
have  I  to  do  with  the  results  of  your  own  vile  seaman- 
ship ?  Have  haste  or  Allah  alone  knows  what  will  betide 
from  the  mouth  of  one  of  these  guns." 

He  gathered  the  child  up  into  his  arms  and  stalked 
with  dignity  up  the  companion. 

Ten  minutes  later  a  launch  fussed  away  from  the  side 
of  the  Diomede.  The  commandant  waved  his  hand- 
kerchief gaily  in  farewell  to  his  small  guest,  who,  from 
the  encirclement  of  his  father's  arm,  waved  as  gaily  back. 
Half  a  hundred  maielots  grinned  affably  at  him  as  they 
paused  in  their  toil  at  cabin  lights  and  brass-work.  Lan- 
don  saluted  punctiliously  and  Muhammed's  brown  eyes 
expressed  a  grave  approval  of  his  entertainment.  The 
launch's  prow  was  thrust  into  the  gloom. 


BY    FAVOR    OF    THE    FOG  115 

Another  gust  sang  lazily  from  the  shore  and  the  desert 
and  shivered  the  fog.  The  patches  of  blue  joined,  grew 
wider,  opened  a  triumphal  arch  for  the  descending  sun- 
beams' entrance.  A  little  more  than  a  mile  away  the 
walls  of  the  sea  bastions  shone  white.  The  launch's 
speed  increased. 

Before  they  reached  the  quayside  the  last  wisp  of  vapor 
had  disappeared.  Land  and  sea  were  swathed  in  sun. 
Landon  gave  a  little  cackle  of  amusement  and  pointed 
behind  him. 

"My  yacht!"  he  cried  gaily.  "My  over-anxious 
master  has  weighed  anchor  in  pursuit  of  me.  Word  must 
have  reached  him  of  my  having  allowed  myself  to  be  per- 
suaded into  that  vile  lateen." 

The  sub-lieutenant  in  charge  swerved  the  tiller. 

"Let  me  take  you  straight  to  her,"  he  said.  "Let  me 
signal  her!" 

Landon  appeared  to  consider. 

"Thanks,  a  thousand  times,"  he  said,  "but  a  small 
matter  of  victualling  which  I  promised  my  steward  to 
deal  with  has  just  recurred  to  my  mind.  I  will  see  to  it 
and  then  signal  for  my  own  boat.  After  all,  too,  I  might 
see  a  little  of  the  town,  now  we  have  the  sunshine  to  illu- 
minate it.  A  couple  of  hours  ago  it  was  London  in  Nov- 
ember, with  a  few  additional  smells!" 

The  lieutenant  laughed  and  turned  the  prow  towards 
the  shore  again.  He  cast  another  look  over  his  shoulder. 

"Is  it  possible  that  your  master  has  information  of,  or 
suspects,  that  very  lateen?  It  appears  to  me  that  he  is 
chasing  it ! " 

Landon  faced  seaward  and  observed  the  yacht  keenly. 

He  laughed  with  great  enjoyment. 

"He  is  a  character,  that  skipper  of  mine,"  he  said. 


n6  THE    PURSUIT 

"  He  is  as  likely  as  not  to  sink  the  unfortunate  boat  if  he 
does  not  find  me  on  board-  or  get  a  reasonable  account 
of  me.  I  shall  have  to  smooth  matters  down  with  a  dollar 
or  two." 

A  minute  later  the  launch  slowed  up  against  the  little 
quay.  The  three  passengers  stepped  ashore,  Landon 
full  of  compliments  and  thanks.  Still  waving  adieu,  he, 
Muhammed,  and  the  child  paced  contentedly  off  into  the 
town.  The  lieutenant  turned  seaward  again. 

A  slightly  bewildered  frown  clouded  his  face  as  he 
approached  the  Diomdde.  The  yacht  had  anchored  with 
the  lateen  alongside  her,  and  a  boat  was  pulling  from  her 
towards  the  warship.  The  lieutenant  considered  that 
for  yachtsmen  he  had  never  seen  a  boat's  crew  pull 
faster. 


CHAPTER  XI 

RATTIER  LOSES   HIS  CALM 

MAJOR  D'HUBERT,  Provost  Marshal  of  the 
French  forces  occupying  Casablanca,  grinned 
widely. 

"So  you  suffered  him  to  escape?"   he  said. 

Commandant  Rattier  drummed  fiercely  on  the  office 
table. 

"Suffered?"  he  roared.  "I  entertained  him  —  the 
escroc!  I  nourished  him;  I  sent  him  ashore!" 

The  soldier  smiled  and  looked  at  Rattier's  companion 
—  Aylmer. 

"What  open-hearted  ingenuousness!"  he  chuckled. 
"You  and  I  now,  my  Captain !  When  one  has  been  officer 
of  the  day  a  few  thousand  times,  or  sat  upon  a  few  hun- 
dred courts-martial,  or  acted  as  maitre  de  logis,  one 
learns  to  sift  a  story  then.  And  this  one  had  its  weak 
points,  even  for  a  sailor.  Would  any  one  not  mentally 
deranged  hire  a  lateen  to  take  him  aboard  his  own  yacht  ? 
No,  I  should  have  required  something  better  imagined 
than  that  —  I." 

Aylmer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"The  man  can  make  himself  of  an  engaging  personality, 
Major.  Our  friend  acted  according  to  the  impulses  of  his 
generous  soul.  But  the  point  is  that  our  man  is  hidden 
in  the  town.  We  come  to  you  for  expert  knowledge. 
Who  would  be  likely  to  shelter  him,  and  where?  You 
will  pardon  our  insistence  and  intrusion,  but  our  need  is 


n8  THE    PURSUIT 

very  pressing.     It  is  the  child  who  is  our  concern,  the 
child." 

D'Hubert  made  a  gesture  of  assent. 

"Apart  from  my  sincere  affection  for  our  simple- 
minded  commandant,  Monsieur,  your  tale  is  good 
enough  for  any  honest  man  and  a  father  of  babes  like 
myself.  But  this  town  of  Casablanca  is,  in  effect,  a  hay- 
stack. Your  quarry  has  the  best  of  chances  to  act  the 
needle." 

He  opened  a  door  into  an  outer  office  and  shouted  a 
name. 

"Sergeant  Perinaud!" 

A  body  filled  the  doorway  and  entered,  bending  the 
last  few  inches  of  its  stature.  The  sergeant  saluted  and 
unfolded  himself,  his  eyes  reviewing  the  company  with 
affable  respect  about  two  metres  above  the  floor. 

"  Visit  the  guardroom  at  each  gate,  see  the  lieutenants  of 
the  Spanish  police  and  bring  me  back  a  list  of  parties 
which  have  left  the  town  since  morning.  This  is  a 
matter  of  haste." 

The  sergeant  saluted  again  and  then  hesitated. 

"Is  it  permitted  first  to  speak?"  he  asked. 

The  major  nodded  jerkily. 

"It  is,  by  chance,  the  movements  of  two  men  and  a 
woman  which  are  in  question  ? "  speculated  Perinaud. 

Major  d'Hubert  opened  his  lips,  shut  them  tight, 
meditated  a  moment,  and  then  spoke.  He  turned  and. 
looked  at  his  visitors. 

"The  child?  Is  it  of  a  stature  to  be  disguised  as  a 
woman?"  he  asked. 

The  sergeant  interrupted  with  an  apologetic  gesture. 

"The  figure  of  the  woman  I  suggest  was  not  seen  by 
me.  She  travelled  in  an  arba.  My  attention  was  drawn  to 


RATTIER    LOSES    HIS    CALM       119 

the  party  thus.  Two  hours  ago  a  band  of  the  Beni 
M'Geel,  Berbers,  left  by  the  eastern  gate  as  for  Ber 
Rechid.  They  had  with  them  two  Arabs  and  a  woman 
under  the  canopy  of  which  I  spoke.  Arab  and  Berber, 
especially  if  the  latter  are  of  the  Beni  M'Geel,  do  not 
usually  travel  together." 

"You  observed  the  men?" 

"Not  narrowly,  my  Major.  One  was  of  a  smiling 
countenance,  hook-nosed,  and  clad  in  a  djelab  of  brown. 
He  walked  beside  the  arba  and  his  talk,  as  I  judged  it, 
was  to  the  woman,  who,  however,  made  no  reply.  The 
other  had  the  hood  of  his  haik  pulled  far  over  his  face. 
I  did  not  see  it." 

The  major  sat  down  at  his  desk,  wrote  a  few  lines 
swiftly,  dashed  sand  upon  the  ink,  and  handed  the  com- 
pleted note  to  his  underling. 

"Let  that  be  taken  to  General  d'Amade  without  delay. 
Search  may  at  the  same  time  be  made  in  the  town  for  an 
Englishman,  his  child,  and  a  Moor  attendant  who  landed 
from  a  launch  of  the  Diomdde  some  three  hours  back. 
The  messenger  may  await  the  general's  answer  and 
bring  it  to  me  here." 

As  the  giant  saluted  for  the  third  time  and  diminished 
himself  into  the  doorway,  Major  d'Hubert  confronted  his 
friends  with  a  pessimistic  shake  of  the  head. 

"My  instinct  is  that  Perinaud  has  already  put  his 
finger  on  the  mystery.  Your  milord  must  be  a  man  of 
resource.  To  have  engaged  the  services  of  some  of  these 
wolves  of  Beni  M'Geel  within  an  hour  of  landing  in  a 
strange  town  shows  more  than  talent.  It  amounts  to 
genius." 

"This  servant  of  his,  Muhammed,  is  no  stranger  to 
the  port."  said  Aylmer.  "We  learned  that  before  we 


120  THE    PURSUIT 

left  Tangier.  He  is  a  well-known  gun  runner,  and 
stands  high  in  his  profession.  He  has  made  these 
arrangements." 

Commandant  Rattier  flung  aside  his  taciturnity  with  a 
suddenly  impulsive  oath. 

"  Name  of  all  little  names ! "  he  cried.  "  Do  we  sit  and 
discuss  this  matter  as  if  it  were  a  comedietta  in  which 
we  take  no  more  than  the  languid  interest  of  the  dilet- 
tante !  Are  they  not  to  be  pursued  —  this  past  master  of 
perjury  and  his  lieutenant?  Are  we  to  mount  the  town 
walls  and  wave  them  affectionate  farewells?" 

D 'Hubert  arched  his  brows  with  protest. 

"Pursuit?  Certainly  there  is  a  question  of  pursuit,  if 
it  is  allowed.  I  have  just  sent  a  precis  of  your  story  to  the 
commander-in-chief  with  a  request  for  his  leave  to  send  a 
patrol.  In  a  very  few  minutes  we  shall  learn  whether  or 
no  we  have  his  permission." 

"Permission !"  Rattier  roared  the  word  in  the  major's 
face.  "  I,  Paul  Rattier,  do  you  see,  have  been  made  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  fleet  and,  in  time,  no  doubt,  of  half 
Europe !  Am  I  to  wait  your  general's  permission  to  chase 
this  scoundrel  to  Timbuctoo,  if  I  so  wish?  I  am  the 
senior  officer  of  marine  here.  I  give  myself  leave,  under- 
stand me  —  I!" 

"  And  these  amiable  Berbers  ?  "  asked  the  major,  sarcas- 
tically. "  Supposing  they  turn  upon  you  and  demand  your 
reasons,  and  estimate  your  powers?  Suppose,  to  be 
blunt,  my  friend,  they  put  a  bullet  through  your  brains  ?" 

"Would  that  be  any  worse  than  wearing  this  hat  of 
ridicule  which  this  Baron  de  Landon  has  put  upon  my 
head  ?  No  Moor  or  Touareg  or  Berber  shall  stand  be- 
tween me  and  the  object  of  my  just  retaliation,  if  I  con- 
front him ! " 


RATTIER    LOSES    HIS    CALM       121 

A  small  bell  tinkled  in  a  corner.  D'Hubert  made  a 
gesture  of  apology  as  he  went  towards  a  cabinet  screened 
from  the  general  office.  He  came  back  grinning. 

"My  Paul,"  he  chuckled,  "there  will  be  shortly  an 
insuperable  barrier  between  you  and  your  desire.  In 
another  hour  you  will  not  be  the  senior  officer  of  marine 
at  Casablanca.  I  learn  by  wireless  that  the  Barfleur, 
with  the  admiral  on  board,  enters  the  roads  within  the 
hour." 

Rattier  stood  for  an  instant  motionless.  Then  he 
turned  and  darted  for  the  door. 

Before  his  fingers  reached  the  handle  Aylmer's  grip 
was  on  his  shoulder.  With  a  passionate  gesture  of  re- 
pulse the  commandant  shook  him  off. 

"I  am  not  one  to  await  admirals!"  he  roared.  "I 
go  to  make  arrangements.  Within  half  an.  hour  I  leave 
the  town  —  I.  If  I  have  to  walk  I  will  follow  these 
Berber  scoundrels,  yes,  if  I  have  to  crawl  upon  my 
knees!" 

As  the  two  wrestled  and  argued  on  the  threshold,  the 
door  opened  from  the  outside.  The  massive  proportions 
of  the  sergeant  towered  over  them  in  respectful  amaze- 
ment. He  saluted  and  deferentially  edged  a  way  for 
himself  towards  D'Hubert. 

"The  general  was  in  the  act  of  passing,  my  Major," 
he  explained.  "He  read  your  note  and  wrote  his  answer 
on  the  back  in  five  words  —  he  was  amiable  enough  to 
inform  me." 

The  major  untwisted  the  little  roll  of  soiled  paper  and 
as  he  inspected  it  a  smile  creased  his  cheek.  He  chuckled. 

"  A  half  troop  of  Goumiers ! "  he  read.  He  looked  at 
the  frowning  face  of  the  commandant. 

"  No  need  to  go  alone,  my  Paul.    There  is  your  escort." 


132  THE    PURSUIT 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  debating.  "Do  either  of  you,  by 
chance,  speak  Arabic?" 

"  Am  I  an  interpreter ?"  asked  Rattier,  bitterly.  "Does 
one  need  a  grammar  and  dictionary  to  arrest  half  a  dozen 
scoundrels  who  are  perfectly  well  aware  why  they  are 
being  chased,  and  whom  one  will  take  the  liberty  of  shoot- 
ing if  they  resist  capture?  For  that  plain  English  or 
French  —  or,  for  all  practical  purposes,  Chinese  —  will 
suffice.  Avoid  alarming  yourself  on  that  subject,  mon 
ami." 

The  major  grinned. 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  your  quarry  but  your  colleagues, 
my  pigeon.  The  Goumiers  speak  their  own  argot.  They 
are  good-hearted  children,  but  apt  to  be  tempestuous  in 
matters  of  fighting."  He  meditated  through  another 
minute  before  he  spoke  with  quick  decision.  "Sergeant ! 
Prepare  to  accompany  M.  le  Commandant  within  fifteen 
minutes." 

Perinaud  saluted  with  entire  imperturbability. 

"And  my  instructions,  my  Major?"  he  asked. 

"To  return  with  the  prisoners  which  Commandant 
Rattier  will  indicate  to  you,  or,  failing  their  capture, 
within  twenty-four  hours." 

"Bien!"  Perinaud  folded  himself  anaconda-like  into 
the  back  office  and  disappeared.  Ten  minutes  later,  a 
period  which  D'Hubert  filled  with  much  voluble  advice, 
there  was  the  tramping  of  many  horses'  feet  without. 
Aylmer  and  Rattier  strolled  out  into  the  open  at  the 
major's  heels. 

Under  the  command  of  one  of  their  own  native  officers, 
forty  horsemen  of  the  famous  Algerian  yeomanry  had 
reined  up  in  the  dusty  street.  They  sat  in  their  high 
peaked  saddles,  watching  keenly  the  faces  of  D'Hubert 


RATTIER    LOSES    HIS    CALM       123 

and  his  companions.  Aylmer  noted  the  eager,  alert 
expectation  which  filled  each  flashing  brown  eye.  The 
Gouraier,  though  he  has  proved  his  valor  in  more  than 
one  pitched  battle  against  the  men  of  his  own  blood,  is 
not  a  man  of  war  as  we  understand  it.  Manoeuvring, 
tactics,  the  orderliness  of  drill  and  discipline  are  not 
inherent  in  his  nature.  But  the  raid,  the  foray,  the  loot- 
ing expedition  are  to  him  the  apex  and  apogee  of  human 
bliss.  Thin,  modest  of  stomach  and  worldly  possessions, 
he  passes  over  the  quickly  reached  horizon  of  the  desert 
and  is  forgotten  of  the  well-drilled  colleagues  he  leaves 
behind.  But  see  his  return !  Swelling  with  good  victuals, 
jingling  with  caparison  of  desert  wealth,  with  chicken 
and  kid  pendent  from  his  saddle-bow,  who  more  popular 
than  he?  The  savory  incense  of  his  mess  attracts  all 
nostrils;  his  lavishly  scattered  loot  widens  the  already 
capacious  circle  of  his  friends.  Winning  it,  or  wasting  it 
when  won,  loot  is  the  pivot  on  which  his  reckless,  joyous, 
heedless  existence  swings. 

Rising  from  the  rear  as  a  cathedral  tower  rises  above 
the  encircling  dwellings  at  its  base,  Perinaud's  head  and 
shoulders  topped  the  ranks.  His  amiable  smile,  this 
time,  had  about  it  something  of  more  than  ordinary 
deference.  It  was  the  near  kin  of  a  smirk,  and  his  yellow 
moustache  was  twisted  fiercely  upwards.  Aylmer  fol- 
lowed the  direction  of  his  glance  to  find  it  focussed  upon 
Claire  Van  Arlen. 

Her  eyes  met  his.  She  made  him  a  little  gesture,  half 
of  appeal,  as  it  seemed,  half  of  command. 

As  he  covered  the  few  yards  which  separated  them, 
he  noted,  with  a  queer  tightening  of  the  heart,  the  deep 
shadows  which  had  grown  beneath  her  eyes.  But  at 
the  same  time  it  was  not  all  anxiety  or  weariness  which 


124  THE    PURSUIT 

her  face  expressed.  There  was  determination  also. 
And  this  was  reflected  in  Mr.  Van  Arlen's  glance.  It 
dwelled  upon  Aylmer  with  expectancy  and  more  than 
expectancy, — with  hope. 

Without  preamble  he  answered  the  question  which 
their  eyes  had  asked.  They  heard  him  in  silence  to  the 
end,  and  as  he  finished,  the  girl's  first  comment  was  no 
more  than  a  little  sigh. 

"The  sergeant's  surmise  is  right;  my  instinct  tells  me 
that,"  said  Aylmer.  "A  few  hours  —  and  I  shall  be 
putting  the  child  in  your  arms  again." 

She  looked  up  at  the  double  rank  of  horsemen.  A 
sudden  vivid  flash  of  feeling  passed  over  her  features. 
Her  breath  came  with  a  little  pant. 

"Ah,  if  I  could  ride  with  you !"  she  said  fiercely.  " If 
I  could  do  more  than  wait!" 

The  color  mounted  to  her  cheeks,  to  her  brow.  A  new 
note  sounded  in  her  voice. 

"  If  they  show  fight  —  these  men  ?  If,  rather  than 
lose  the  child,  he"  —her  voice  sank  unsteadily  for  a 
moment  —  "  does  him  an  injury  ?  You  would  not  spare 
him?" 

He  smiled  a  little  wearily. 

"So  you  distrust  me  still?"  he  asked.  "Why  should 
I  spare  him?  Because,  to  my  shame,  we  are  of  one 
blood?" 

Mr.  Van  Arlen's  thin  hand  rose  in  deprecation. 

"We  can  leave  this  matter  confidently  in  Captain 
Aylmer's  hands,"  he  said.  "We  have  only  the  one  thing 
to  think  of  —  the  child." 

"No!"  she  cried  vehemently.  "  I  want  the  child,  but 
I  want  more  than  that.  I  want  retribution.  I  want 
Landon  in  the  dust.  I  want  him  made  to  feel,  as  I  feel. 


RATTIER    LOSES    HIS    CALM        125 

The  child  is  much,  but  he  is  not  all.  Have  you  for- 
gotten the  last  eight  years  of  my  sister's  life?  Do  you 
remember  what  she  has  undergone  and  still  has  to 
undergo  if  the  father  of  her  son  wins  this  trick,  as  my 
heart  tells  me  he  will  win  it?  I  want  vengeance.  I 
want  every  chance  to  grasp  it  seized.  I  should  not 
hesitate,  where  his  kinsman  might." 

Aylmer  nodded  gravely. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said  quietly.  "  Perhaps  it  is  natu- 
ral. But  you  keep  forgetting  the  one  thing  —  that  I 
work  for  my  own  reward.  Even  pity  would  be  a  frail 
barrier  between  me  and  that." 

Watching  her  keenly,  he  saw  a  quiver  of  repulsion 
tremble  about  her  lips,  but  it  did  not  stay.  She  set  them 
rather  into  grimness.  She  looked  at  him  keenly,  debat- 
ingly,  indeed,  as  if  she  weighed  his  words  and  sought  to 
set  a  value  on  them. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  and  there  was  a  breathlessness  in  her 
tone  as  if  she  slurred  words  which  she  did  not  dare  to 
let  herself  hear.  "I,  too,  understand.  And  my  father 
would  consider  no  price  too  high  for  the  service  which 
won  back  his  grandchild,  and  removed  the  menace  of 
Landon's  existence  from  our  lives." 

Van  Arlen  bowed  unconsciously  —  his  courteous,  in- 
stinctive inclination  of  assent. 

"  Such  a  service  would  be  beyond  price  or  reward,"  he 
said  quietly.  "We  could  only  do  our  best." 

But  there  was  a  queerly  puzzled  look  in  his  eyes  as 
they  wandered  from  Aylmer  to  his  daughter's  face.  He 
frowned  a  little,  still  unconsciously,  in  the  throes  of  an 
obvious  bewilderment. 

Aylmer  looked  at  him  once,  swiftly,  speculatively,  and 
then  turned  steadily  towards  Claire. 


126  THE    PURSUIT 

"And  you?"  he  asked  quietly. 

She  did  not  flinch;  she  did  not  even  show,  this  time, 
any  sign  of  repulsion.  The  note  in  her  voice  now  was 
exasperation,  the  nervous  defiance  of  one  confronting  an 
intolerable  situation  from  which  there  was  no  escape. 

"I?  I  should  think  as  my  father  thinks,"  she  said 
coolly.  She  turned  as  she  spoke  and  looked  impatiently 
at  the  line  of  waiting  horsemen. 

Aylmer  nodded. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  briskly.  He  made  a  sign 
towards  Perinaud,  who  jogged  forward  leading  the  spare 
horse  whose  bridle  he  had  been  holding.  Aylmer  vaulted 
into  the  saddle,  and  reined  in  beside  his  friend  Rattier, 
who,  using  the  pommel  for  a  desk,  was  writing  a  few 
lines  of  instruction  to  his  lieutenant.  A  guttural  order 
rumbled  from  the  native  officer's  lips. 

The  line  of  horsemen  wheeled  and  deployed  into  lines 
of  four.  With  a  jingle  of  accoutrements,  they  jogged  off 
into  the  dust  of  the  allies  towards  the  eastern  gate. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   AMBUSH   OF  THE   BROOM 

wells  of  El  Djebir,  Monsieur,"  explained 
Sergeant  Perinaud.  "It  is  here  we  should  find 
our  men,  if  they  are  proceeding  by  the  shortest  route  to 
their  hills.  If  not—  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 
significantly. 

The  horses  were  roused  from  their  gentle  amble  into 
a  gallop.  The  dust  rose  from  fourscore  hoofs  as  the 
Goumiers  raced  down  in  an  enveloping  cloud  upon  the 
cluster  of  palms  and  thicket  of  broom  scrub  which  sur- 
rounded the  watering-place.  They  pulled  their  horses 
upon  their  haunches;  they  shouted  in  hoarse  disap- 
pointment. The  shadowed  resting-place  beneath  the 
palms  was  empty.  Not  a  living  soul  was  in  sight. 

Perinaud  shrugged  his  shoulders  again. 

"This  is  very  conclusive,  Monsieur.  The  party  we 
seek  has  thought  fit  to  leave  the  open  road  and  to  bury 
themselves  in  the  recesses  of  the  jungle  and  the  northern 
gorges  of  the  river.  They  did  not  do  that  without  a 
reason.  It  remains  to  follow,  if  we  can." 

The  native  officer  shouted  something  and  Perinaud 
turned  swiftly  in  the  saddle  to  stare  down  the  track 
which  they  had  been  following.  A  white  figure  bestriding 
a  brown  horse  was  thundering  towards  them,  the  rider's 
haik  fluttering  out  snowily  against  the  dun  background 
of  the  earth, 


ia«  THE    PURSUIT 

"So  Monsieur  thought  fit  to  leave  me  —  me!"  ex- 
postulated Daoud,  as  he  drew  rein  at  Aylmer's  side.  "I, 
I  who  address  you,  am  told  by  the  chance  gossip  of  the 
S6k  that  this  expedition  has  set  out  without  a  word  of 
warning,  to  seek  bandits  —  where?"  He  threw  abroad 
his  arms  in  derision.  "On  the  broad  and  open  road, 
within  sound,  nay,  almost  within  sight,  of  the  patrols  of 
Casablanca.  I  ask,  is  it  here  that  knaves  are  likely  to 
hide  their  knavery?  Your  venture  and  its  object  are 
already  the  pivot  on  which  the  laughter  of  the  market- 
place swings." 

He  turned  and  pointed  vehemently  towards  the 
north. 

"Has  none  of  your  trained  spies  had  the  wit  or  the 
courage  to  tell  you  that  a  hundred  of  these  Beni  M'Geel 
Berbers  have  encamped  in  the  thickets  of  the  Bou  Gherba 
gorge  this  ten  days  back?  And  yet  the  market-place 
knows  it,  as  it  knows  a  hundred  things  beneath  your 
concern." 

Perinaud  looked  the  Moor  up  and  down.  Then  he 
turned  leisurely  towards  Aylmer. 

"He  is  a  safe  man,  this?"  he  asked.  "You  guarantee 
him?" 

Aylmer  smiled,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders  towards 
the  waiting  Goumiers. 

"They  are  all  for  their  own  hand,  these,  are  they  not, 
Sergeant?  Yes,  I  will  guarantee  that  he  seeks  to  serve 
me,  for  the  moment,  and  in  serving  me,  himself.  It  is 
the  way  with  these  desert  folk.  They  cannot  manage 
large  issues,  and  they  split  into  factions  to  follow 
small  ones.  Let  us  hear  him  and,  if  you  see  no 
objection,  take  his  advice.  He  has  been  in  Casablanca 
before." 


AMBUSH    OF    THE    BROOM          129 

Perinaud  grunted  and  eyed  the  Moor  grudgingly. 

"Well,  man  of  infinite  knowledge,"  he  said  in  Arabic. 
"You  propose  —  what?" 

"Are  there  two  courses  before  us?"  asked  Daoud, 
disdainfully.  "  Or  are  we  to  await  reinforcements  ?  We 
have  to  surround  this  lair  of  desert  cats." 

"Where?"  asked  Perinaud,  laconically. 

The  Moor  wheeled  his  stallion  with  an  elaborate 
caracole. 

"If  the  Sidi  had  used  my  services  from  the  first,"  he 
said,  "he  would  have  been  saved  an  hour's  ride.  For- 
ward, Sidi!" 

The  sergeant  lifted  his  eyebrows  at  Aylmer  with  an  air 
of  comical  resignation.  To  the  native  officer  he  gave  a 
decisive  little  nod.  With  Daoud  leading,  the  brown 
stallion  arching  his  neck  in  remonstrance  to  a  tightened 
rein  and  goading  spur,  the  column  broke  formation  and 
in  single  file  turned  northwards  into  the  broom  scrub 
which  fringes  the  tilled  lands  of  the  Chawia. 

The  horsemen  rode  in  silence.  The  mantle  of  Rattier's 
taciturnity,  rent  to  rags  in  D'Hubert's  office,  seemed  to 
have  been  restored  to  its  pristine  imperviousness,  seemed, 
indeed,  to  hang  heavy  upon  the  spirits  of  the  whole 
company.  Now  and  again  the  commandant's  lips 
moved  uneasily,  but  the  spoken  word  died  still-born.  A 
Goumier  would  address  fervent  maledictions  to  the 
memory  of  the  female  ancestors  of  a  stumbling  horse; 
curt  conferences  took  place  at  long  intervals  between 
Perinaud  and  the  native  officer.  But  apart  from  this, 
the  thud  of  hoofs  meeting  sand  or  earth  and  the  dull  rap 
of  rein  or  stirrup  leather  were  all  the  sounds  which  broke 
the  stillness.  The  heavy  noontide  heat  seemed  to  have 
swallowed  into  silence  all  sound.  For  sound  denotes 

9 


i3o  THE    PURSUIT 

creative  energy,  and  energy,  when  the  sun  is  at  its  zenith 
in  South  Morocco,  is  sapped. 

Their  course,  as  Aylmer  was  quick  to  notice,  led  per- 
petually upward,  but  in  gradients  which  almost  eluded 
notice.  Gray  blue  in  the  haze  of  distance,  the  rolling 
uplands  culminated  in  a  range  of  low  hills,  but  these 
were  a  full  day's  march  beyond  their  powers.  Their 
goal,  if  it  were  to  be  reached  within  daylight,  must  be 
nearer  than  that.  His  attention,  as  the  hours  went 
monotonously  by,  was  at  last  drawn  to  a  gap  in  the  far 
mapped  expanse  of  vegetation. 

A  line  of  green,  deeper  and  of  more  luxuriant  growth 
than  the  thickets  around  them,  divided  the  jungle  from 
east  to  west.  Daoud,  turning  in  his  saddle,  waved  his 
hand  in  an  important  gesture. 

"The  Gorge  of  the  Bou  Djerba,  Sidi,"  he  said.  "It 
is  my  advice  that  I  go  forward  to  reconnoitre  —  alone." 

Aylmer  looked  at  Perinaud.  The  sergeant  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"Monsieur  guarantees  this  fellow,  I  understand? 
Well,  let  him  justify  himself.  I  have  no  objections." 

Rattier  interrupted. 

"It  is  well  understood  that  I  deal  with  this  M.  de 
Landon  if  he  is  there,  I  alone  ?  Your  man,  now,  if  he 
suddenly  confronts  him  —  He  broke  off  with  a  mean- 
ing gesture.  "I  do  not  wish  my  interview  with  him 
anticipated." 

In  spite  of  himself,  a  smile  broke  the  imperturbability 
of  the  sergeant's  face.  With  a  suggestive  jerk  of  the 
hand  he  dismissed  Daoud,  who  cantered  on  into  and 
was  lost  in  the  jungle  of  mallow.  Perinaud  turned  sym- 
pathetic and  now  perfectly  grave  features  towards  the 
commandant. 


AMBUSH    OF    THE    BROOM          131 

"  Monsieur  may  be  easy  in  his  mind,"  he  said  quietly. 
"The  man  we  seek,  if  I  have  understood  his  talents 
rightly,  is  hardly  likely  to  be  subdued  without  the  dis- 
play of  some  force  and  intelligence." 

He  turned  to  give  the  order  to  dismount.  Rattier 
watched  him  with  an  air  of  baffled  exasperation.  There 
had  been  a  gentle  emphasis  on  the  last  two  words  which 
could  scarcely  be  misunderstood,  and  as  the  sailor 
ruminated  over  them,  his  taciturnity  showed  renewed 
signs  of  failing  before  the  rising  tide  of  his  wrath.  A 
sudden  diversion  averted  an  outbreak. 

For  a  gunshot  rang  out  among  the  woodland  silences 
into  which  Daoud  had  disappeared.  It  was  instantly 
replied  to  by  the  shriller  snap  of  a  revolver.  And  this 
was  followed  by  a  fusillade  of  five  more  reports  as  the 
weapon  was  emptied.  The  Moor's  voice  was  suddenly 
uplifted. 

"To  me,  Sidi!"  he  was  shouting  vehemently.  "To 
me!" 

The  native  officer  thundered  an  order.  In  a  twinkling 
the  men  were  back  in  their  saddles  and,  in  irregular  for- 
mation, threading  the  aisles  of  thicket  at  a  canter.  Ayl- 
mer  and  Rattier  followed  the  sergeant,  riding  abreast. 

There  came  another  report.  A  bullet  whistled  be- 
tween the  pair,  and  from  Rattier  came  a  little  growl  of 
satisfaction.  If  there  was  to  be  a  fight,  he  seemed  to 
imply,  his  promised  interview  with  Landon  would  as- 
sume proportions  which  were  entirely  pleasing  to  him. 
Perinaud  increased  his  horse's  pace,  flinging  alert  glances 
each  side  of  him  rather  than  in  front. 

A  couple  of  hundred  yards  at  speed  and  the  forest 
maze  opened  into  a  wide  clearing,  deeply  overgrown 
with  mallow  and  broom.  Through  the  middle  of  this, 


i32  THE    PURSUIT 

his  horse  laboring  against  the  growth  which  was  full 
five  feet  high,  rode  Daoud,  revolver  in  hand.  A  short 
distance  ahead  of  him  the  green  thicket  was  grooved  in 
half  a  dozen  places,  as  unseen  bodies  crashed  through. 
Daoud's  aim  was  poised  and  then  withdrawn  a  score  of 
times  in  as  many  seconds.  The  flicker  of  a  white  haik 
would  show  for  a  brief  instant  here  and  there,  and  then 
be  swallowed  by  the  jungle. 

Daoud  would  answer  these  appearances  with  a  bullet, 
one  which  apparently  invariably  missed  its  mark,  for 
the  echo  of  a  mocking  triumph  greeted  them.  He  turned 
irritably  in  the  direction  of  his  companions. 

He  waved  his  hand  significantly,  motioning  them  to 
deploy  right  and  left,  to  surround  the  thicket.  Perinaud 
answered  with  a  comprehending  nod. 

But  Rattier  had  neither  the  time  nor  the  inclination 
for  a  display  of  tactics.  As  Daoud  turned  his  horse  to 
emerge  from  the  mallow,  the  commandant  spurred  his 
charger  into  the  thick  of  it.  And  he  shouted,  he  whirled 
up  his  right  hand,  grasping  his  revolver,  with  fierce  ges- 
ticulations of  encouragement. 

The  Goumiers  saw,  heard,  and  found  little  room  for 
hesitation  in  their  mood.  Like  a  torrent  released  at  the 
breaking  of  a  dam,  they  followed.  Perinaud  thundered 
an  ineffectual  protest. 

It  fell  on  deaf  ears.  The  green  brake  was  furrowed 
by  a  dozen  lanes  before  their  impact  and  then,  relent- 
lessly, as  it  seemed,  closed  behind  them.  The  horses 
bucked,  plunged,  but  made  little  headway.  From  one 
of  them  came  a  sudden  whinnying  shriek  of  pain. 

Then  it  sank  under  its  rider  as  the  knife  which  had 
severed  its  tendons  slipped  back  into  the  cover  from 
which  it  had  been  so  swiftly  and  so  silently  thrust. 


AMBUSH    OF    THE    BROOM          133 

The  fallen  Goumier  cleared  himself  and  scrambled 
to  his  feet.  His  face  alone  was  clear  in  the  sea  of  vege- 
tation, and  it  was  a  mask  of  anger  and  bewilderment. 
And  then  it,  too,  was  gone  with  a  sudden  .panting  cry. 

Aylmer  gave  a  little  gasp.  The  head  was  there  and 
then  it  was  not.  It  sank  into  the  green  as  the  swimmer 
sinks  into  the  blue  in  a  shark-infested  sea.  But  this 
shark  was  a  human  one,  and  its  teeth  a  long  Berber 
knife.  The  fugitives  of  the  Beni  M'Geel  had  chosen 
their  battle-ground  well. 

Horse  or  man,  lance  or  carbine  —  what  were  they 
against  the  daggers  which  the  tussocks  veiled  ?  Mocking 
cries  echoed  in  the  thicket.  Another  horse  shrieked  and 
fell;  another  face  showed  white  above  the  green  and 
then  was  gone.  The  Goumiers  snarled  with  rage  as  they 
spurred  furiously  forward,  but  the  clinging  mallow  held 
them,  shackled  them,  suffocated  them  with  its  density. 
There  was  a  note  of  panic  in  their  shouts;  they  battled 
no  longer  for  victory  but  for  escape. 

The  leader  of  the  reckless  charge  was  in  slightly 
better  case  than  the  majority.  Rattier  and  one  or  two 
others,  by  chance  of  circumstances,  stood  in  wider 
spaces,  where  the  dagger  men  could  not  reach  them 
unseen.  They  sat  in  their  saddles,  alert  for  opportunity, 
quivering  with  rage,  but  useless.  Their  glances  flashed 
from  side  to  side,  their  eyes  gleamed,  but  opportunity 
evaded  them.  And  the  cries  of  the  unseen  enemy  still 
mocked  them  from  the  ambush. 

Carried  away  by  impulse,  Aylmer  would  have  joined 
the  charge.  Perinaud's  hand  fell  upon  his  reins  with  a 
grip  of  iron.  Aylmer  made  as  if  he  would  release  them 
by  force. 

The  sergeant  made  a  gesture  of  appeal. 


134  THE    PURSUIT 

"No,  my  Captain!  This  is  serious.  A  little  coolness, 
a  little  restraint,  and  we  pull  them  out  of  this !  But  to 
follow !  That  spells  death  for  us  all ! " 

He  leaped  from  the  saddle,  drew  his  carbine  from  the 
bucket,  and  flung  to  Aylmer  the  reins  of  both  horses. 

"If  Monsieur  will  be  so  obliging?"  he  said  quickly, 
and  turned  towards  the  nearest  tree,  a  cedar  which 
towered  twenty  feet  above  the  dwarfed  bolls  of  cork. 
He  climbed  lithely,  rapidly,  resting,  at  last,  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  top.  He  leaned  his  carbine  upon  a  bough, 
took  a  steady  aim,  and  fired. 

A  shriek  answered  the  report  —  a  shriek  muffled  in 
the  blanket  of  the  broom. 

"  Courage,  mes  enfants!  "  said  Perinaud,  placidly.  "  That 
accounted  for  one,  and  from  here  I  see  all.  There  are 
but  six.  Give  me  time  and  the  affair  completes  itself 
effectually." 

Again  he  dwelled  upon  his  aim,  hesitated,  fired, 
shook  his  head  in  self-reproach  and  fired  again.  This 
time  he  gave  a  little  nod  of  satisfaction. 

"Two ! "  he  cried  complacently.  " Two,  my  children ! " 
and  the  report  of  his  rifle  punctuated  the  announcement. 
"So!"  went  on  the  sergeant,  as  if  he  commented  on  the 
score  at  a  rifle  range.  "So!  We  write  full  stop  to 
Monsieur  le  troisidme.  Aha !  Messieurs  quatrieme,  cin- 
quieme  and  sixieme  —  it  is  poor  stuff  to  push  through, 
the  broom.  No,  I  do  not  see  you,  Messieurs,  but  I  see 
where  you  run  like  rabbits,  and  perhaps  we  may  chance 
a  bullet  — there!" 

The  report  of  the-last  cartridge  in  the  magazine  was 
answered  by  another  yell.  A  brown-clad  body  shot  into 
the  air  out  of  the  undergrowth  and  subsided  limply. 
Perinaud  nodded  again. 


AMBUSH    OF    THE    BROOM          135 

"Through  the  brain,  my  friend,  through  the  brain. 
Yes,  I  still  see  you,  my  two  little  doves.  We  have  to 
reload.  Four  for  one  magazine  of  five  cartridges  is  not 
bad,  you  will  allow.  You  are  trapped,  are  you  not? 
In  the  broom  you  cannot  escape  me;  in  the  open  you 
will  be  ridden  down.  Well,  it  is  to  be  in  the  broom,  is 
it  ?  So !  Voila,  Monsieur  le  cinquieme !  That  closes 
your  account.  As  for  you,  my  sixth  friend,  you  have 
chosen  the  thicket,  have  you?  You  are  very  still;  we 
must  speculate,  we  must  invite  the  co-operation  of 
chance,  who  is  a  good  friend  to  Sergeant  Perinaud  as 
a  rule.  There !  No,  is  that  not  in  the  middle  of  the  tar- 
get ?  We  must  try  again.  Umph !  I  wonder  if  you  are, 
after  all,  dead,  my  pigeon.  Hola,  there!  Monsieur  le 
Commandant.  If  you  will  be  good  enough  to  step 
fifteen  long  paces  to  the  right,  following  the  motion  of 
my  hand,  you  will  be  able  to  inform  me  if  my  last  shot 
was  a  bull's-eye,  an  outer,  or  even  —  shame  to  me  if 
it  is  so  —  a  miss.  Yes,  Monsieur,  that  is  the  spot. 
WTiere  the  patch  of  broom  outcrops  between  those  two 
stumps  of  cork." 

Rattier  beat  a  road  laboriously  through  the  clinging 
stems  as  the  sergeant's  finger  motioned.  A  sudden 
muffled  exclamation  burst  from  him;  he  lurched  side- 
ways, stumbled,  and  fell  prone.  The  green  stalks 
rustled  and  shook  as  something  brown  and  indistin- 
guishable shot  through  them  in  the  direction  in  which 
the  waiting  Goumiers  were  thickest. 

Perinaud  gave  a  warning  cry. 

"Look  to  yourselves!  I  cannot  shoot;  he  is  in  line 
between  us ! " 

One  of  the  horsemen  shouted  and  spurred  his  stallion 
towards  the  fringe  of  the  undergrowth  furthest  from  the 


136  THE    PURSUIT 

point  at  which  the  charge  had  entered  it.  His  impulsive 
action  countered  Perinaud's  manifest  purpose  of  firing, 
for  he,  too,  had  seen  the  agitation  of  the  mallow  in  that 
direction.  The  horseman  bounded  forward,  the  horse 
clearing  the  obstructions  in  a  series  of  jerky  little  leaps. 
Beside  the  edge  of  the  clearing  they  halted,  the  man 
searching  the  cover  in  front  of  him  and  on  each  side 
keenly. 

A  brown  something  snaked  out  of  the  thicket  at  his 
back.  Steel  flashed  in  the  sun.  The  Goumier  toppled 
from  the  saddle,  and  a  brown  figure,  bowing  flat  across 
the  horse's  withers,  seemed  to  have  replaced  him  almost 
in  the  moment  of  his  fall.  Spurred  desperately  by  his 
new  rider,  the  stallion  burst  away  down  the  cork  tree 
alleys. 

A  ragged  volley  rattled  out.  Splinters  flew  wide  from 
a  dozen  trees,  but  horse  and  rider  fled  on.  The  Goumiers 
called  fiercely  on  the  name  of  a  dozen  saints  of  Islam  to 
qualify  their  rage  as  they  thrust  their  chargers  out  of 
the  tangle  in  pursuit.  Perinaud  and  their  officer  yelled 
strenuous  commands. 

Crestfallen  and  sullen,  the  troopers  reined  in,  listening 
in  silence  to  the  commination  addressed  to  them  from 
the  pulpit  of  the  cedar. 

"Is  one  lesson  insufficient?"  thundered  Perinaud. 
"Do  we  practise  the  arts  of  war  or  are  we  conducting  a 
ratti-papier  ?  Like  hares  you  were  decoyed  into  this 
ambush,  and,  flinging  your  red-hot  experience  to  the 
winds,  you  are  prepared  to  be  drawn,  as  likely  as  not,  into 
another.  Collect  yourselves,  morally  as  well  as  physi- 
cally, if  you  please." 

They  reined  in  among  the  cork  trees,  and  half  a  dozen, 
flinging  their  reins  to  comrades,  pushed  back  on  foot  into 


AMBUSH    OF    THE    BROOM          137 

the  cover.  A  string  of  oaths  and  maledictions,  twice 
repeated,  told  of  what  they  found.  They  came  back 
with  the  sullen  tread  of  those  bearing  the  heavy  burdens 
of  defeat  and  death.  They  laid  the  bodies  of  their  two 
comrades  at  the  foot  of  the  cedar. 

Rattier,  leaning  upon  Aylmer's  arm,  swore  vehemently. 
The  blood  dripped  from  a  gash  across  his  wrist,  but  he 
raised  it  to  shake  a  fist  in  the  direction  taken  by  the 
fugitive. 

"Another  item  in  M.  de  Landon's  ledger,  name  of 
all  names!"  he  cried.  "But  we  shall  see,  my  friends, 
we  shall  see.  The  hand  is  not  played  out  yet,  believe 
me!" 

"Perhaps  not,"  agreed  Aylmer,  "but  you,  at  any 
rate,  have  cut  out  of  the  deal,  or  have  been  cut  out,"  he 
added  significantly,  pointing  to  the  wounded  arm. 

The  commandant  drew  himself  away  with  a  fierce 
jerk. 

"I !"  he  cried.  "Is  a  cut  finger  —  a  graze  —  to  send 
me  weeping  to  the  ambulance?  The  scoundrel  who 
deceived  me  I  pursue  to  the  world's  end !  He  has  scored 
once  more.  It  is  the  last  time  —  this ! " 

He  raised  himself  to  his  full  height  in  a  grandiloquent 
gesture  and  —  fell  fainting  into  Perinaud's  arms.  The 
sergeant  grunted  morosely  and  pointed  to  a  crimson 
stain  which  had  welled  through  the  blue  tunic  and  was 
rapidly  spreading. 

"If  it  is  not  serious,  I  thank  Our  Lady  and  all  the 
listening  Saints  for  this!"  he  said  devoutly.  "He  is 
impossible  as  a  colleague  on  reconnaissance,  this  ener- 
getic commandant.  It  was  his  recklessness  which  led 
these  men  into  a  trap  which  at  any  other  moment  they 
would  have  avoided.  We  have  lost  two  men  and  five 


i38  THE    PURSUIT 

horses  by  the  result  of  this  escapade.  What  are  your 
suggestions  now,  Monsieur?" 

Aylmer  hesitated. 

"For  the  moment  have  you  not  done  enough?"  he 
asked.  "After  all,  your  service  is  to  France,  not  to 
intruders  like  myself.  My  Moorish  servant  and  I  might 
continue  to  reconnoitre  alone.  Your  hands  are  full 
enough,  are  they  not?" 

The  other  looked  at  him  queerly. 

"Perhaps  Monsieur  thinks  that  so  far  we  have  been  a 
hindrance  rather  than  a  help  to  his  purposes.  Monsieur 
has  reason.  At  the  same  time  we  might  justly,  in  my 
opinion,  be  permitted  another  chance  to  repair  our 
prestige." 

Aylmer  smiled.  Perinaud's  voice  was  chilly.  The 
glance  he  directed  at  the  crestfallen  Goumiers  let  it  be 
inferred  that  his  words  were  also  designed  to  reach  their 
address.  They  shuffled  and  kicked  at  the  ground  rest- 
lessly as  they  listened. 

"It  is  for  you,  of  course,  to  direct  matters,  Sergeant!" 
he  said  quickly.  "But  the  commandant,  without  a 
doubt,  must  be  removed  at  once  to  hospital." 

"Without  a  doubt,  Monsieur,"  agreed  Perinaud,  with 
sudden  cheerfulness.  "We  will  escort  him  and  the  dis- 
mounted men  out  of  the  forest  into  the  open  farm  lands, 
where  patrols  are  not  infrequent  and  nothing  is  to  be 
feared.  They  will  then  be  about  twenty  kilometres  from 
the  town.  The  best  mounted  will  proceed  as  quickly  as 
possible  to  fetch  the  ambulance.  Of  the  others,  twenty 
will  escort  the  commandant's  stretcher  —  it  is  perfectly 
feasible  to  make  a  good  one  of  poles  which  we  will  cut 
and  over  which  we  will  button  two  greatcoats  —  the 
five  new-made  fantassins  will  walk.  The  remaining 


AMBUSH    OF    THE    BROOM          139 

dozen  and  you  and  I,  Monsieur,  will  proceed  —  with 
energy,  if  you  please,  but  certainly  with  prudence." 

Perinaud  closed  his  little  homily  with  the  satisfied  air 
of  an  orator  who  has  arrived  at  and  correctly  delivered 
an  anticipated  peroration. 

And  chance,  who  may  have  been  listening,  offered 
yet  another  of  her  favors  to  her  prote'ge'.  As  the  little 
column  debouched  from  the  trees  into  the  open  expanse 
of  alluvial  country,  a  cloud  of  brown  dust  was  rising  on 
the  far  side  of  the  fringing  barley  fields.  Perinaud  gave 
an  exclamation  of  content. 

"It  is  the  Tirailleurs  with  their  major,"  he  explained. 
"They  have  patrolled  the  Ber  Rechid  road  and  made  a 
reconnaissance  to  get  cattle.  They  will  have  an  ambu- 
lance, or  at  least  a  mule  litter." 

He  put  his  horse  to  the  gallop.  The  others,  following 
more  sedately,  saw  him  reach  and  disappear  among  the 
ranks  of  white-uniformed  men,  whose  cummerbunds  and 
tarbooshes  winked  a  cheerful  scarlet  against  the  dun 
fallow  or  green  cropping  of  the  fields.  And  there  was 
an  air  of  animation  about  the  column  accounted  for, 
perhaps,  by  the  fact  that  innumerable  kids  frisked  about 
their  mothers  as  the  captured  goats  were  herded  along 
the  track,  while  droves  of  small,  wiry  cattle  bellowed  and 
butted  at  each  other,  their  captors,  and  every  moving 
object  within  reach  of  their  serviceable  little  horns. 

Perinaud,  who  had  dismounted,  was  standing  and 
speaking  with  an  air  of  respect  and  precision  to  a  mounted 
officer.  The  latter  turned  as  Aylmer  and  his  companions 
approached,  and  the  former  could  barely  restrain  a  start 
of  consternation  and  surprise.  For  a  deep,  flaming 
groove  dinted  the  man's  forehead  from  temple  to  tem- 
ple, while  the  hand  which  he  raised  in  salute  was  one 


140  THE    PURSUIT 

huge  scar  from  knuckles  to  wrist.  His  brown  eyes  in- 
spected Aylmer  with  friendly  attention. 

"At  your  service,  mon  Capitaine,"  he  said.  "Sergeant 
Perinaud  has  explained  your  needs." 

Aylmer  began  to  express  his  thanks.  The  other 
nodded  pleasantly  and  gave  an  order.  From  the  rear  an 
ambulance  was  trotted  forward :  a  gray-moustached  doc- 
tor in  uniform  swung  himself  from  his  saddle  and  bent 
over  Rattier,  who  was  still  unconscious. 

A  moment  later  he  looked  up. 

"Loss  of  blood,"  he  said  laconically.  "He  has  a  gash 
two  ringers  deep  behind  the  shoulder.  Severe,  but  not 
serious  —  with  care.  We  will  see  to  him." 

The  officer  nodded  again.    He  looked  at  Aylmer. 

"And  yourself,  Monsieur?"  he  asked. 

Aylmer  made  a  gesture  towards  the  forest  and  the 
distant  uplands. 

"With  your  leave,  we  will  continue  our  — investiga- 
tions, Major,"  he  said. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"The  forest,  mon  ami  f  We,  do  you  see,  have  con- 
fined our  operations  so  far  to  the  plough  lands,  the  open. 
I  have  no  store  of  experience  to  draw  upon  for  your 
advice.  You  will  be  pioneers.  I  shall  hope  to  have  the 
benefit  of  your  experience  on  your  return.  Maillot  is 
my  name,  Monsieur,  and  I  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you  at  the  headquarters  of  my  regiment  outside 
the  Fedallah  Gate.  For  the  moment,  then,  au  revoir!" 

He  smiled  cheerfully,  saluted,  and  gave  an  order. 
The  tramp  and  jingle  of  the  march  were  renewed.  The 
dust  cloud  began  to  form  again  where  it  had  settled, 
and  the  Tirailleurs  swung  off  seawards  with  the  elastic 
step  which  those  who  wear  the  godillot  acquire,  and 


AMBUSH    OF    THE    BROOM          141 

which  makes  them  the  envy  of  their  colleagues  in  the 
regulars  who  are  doomed  to  the  precise  lacing  of  the 
sotdier.  Perinaud  made  a  gesture  of  admiration,  as  with 
Aylmer  and  his  half  score  of  Goumiers  he  watched  them 

g°- 

"Monsieur  has  seen  the  bravest  man  and  the  finest 

leader  of  all  the  troops  of  France,"  he  remarked. 

"Major  Maillot?" 

"But  certainly  the  major,  Monsieur.  He  needs  no 
medals  to  prove  what  he  is  and  where  he  has  been. 
His  deeds  are  witnessed  on  his  brow  and  hands." 

He  hesitated  and  then  spoke  quickly. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  vaunt  the  deeds  of  Frenchmen  to 
you,  a  foreigner,  Monsieur,  but  that  is  a  man  in  whom 
we  may  take  an  honest  pride.  The  scar  you  saw  came 
to  him  by  Settat.  He  and  a  picket  were  cut  off  from 
the  main  body  by  a  hidden  reserve  of  the  enemy.  They 
retreated  fighting  and  were  within  measurable  distance 
of  safety.  And  then  one  of  our  fallen,  whom  they  had 
left  for  dead,  cried  aloud  out  of  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 
How  these  savages  were  dealing  with  him  I  shall  not 
disgust  Monsieur  by  telling.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  they 
were  working  the  will  of  devils  upon  him  and,  in  spite 
of  his  manhood,  he  shrieked.  The  major  heard,  and 
like  a  thunderbolt  turned  and  charged  straight  for  the 
enemy,  and  his  men,  without  a  thought  of  the  peril, 
turned  with  him,  a  dozen  perhaps,  against  five  score. 
But  those  hundred  Moors  were  in  full  retreat  before 
the  main  body  of  the  regiment  raced  up  to  the  rescue, 
and  they  picked  their  major  up  wounded  as  you  have 
seen,  lying  across  the  body  of  the  man  he  had  fought  to 
save,  with  seven  dead  foes  ringed  round  him.  .  .  .  They 
have  a  confident  air,  these  Tirailleurs  of  ours.  Some 


i42  THE    PURSUIT 

say  an  insolent  one.  Well,  Monsieur,  they  have  their 
pride,  it  must  be  allowed,  but  God  knows  when  they 
are  led  as  that  man  leads  they  have  a  right  to  it." 

Aylmer  nodded.  Slowly  they  turned  their  horses' 
heads  forestwards  again.  Perinaud  looked  at  the  line 
of  trees  abstractedly  and  then  back  again  at  the  receding 
column. 

"France  does  not  desert  her  children  if  she  remem- 
bers," he  remarked  quietly.  "It  is  well  that  we  met 
these  men  and  their  major.  He  is  a  man  who  will  see 
to  it  that  we  are  not  forgotten,  if  chance  wills  that  we 
do  not  soon  return.  The  task  of  seeking  us  would  be 
one  after  his  own  heart,  and  his  Tirailleurs  would  think 
with  him."  He  smiled  confidently.  "So  we  may  go  for- 
ward with  an  easy  mind,  mon  Capitaine.  We  are  pio- 
neers, as  the  major  said.  To  pioneers  should  come 
adventures,  if  they  are  worthy  of  their  name." 

He  touched  his  stallion's  flank  with  the  spur.  The 
little  band  of  horsemen  cantered  up  and  into  the  shadow 
of  the  cork  trees.  And  there  was  an  air  of  arrogance  and 
recklessness  about  the  riders.  All  trace  of  discomfiture 
of  an  hour  back  was  gone.  It  was  as  if  the  Tirailleurs 
had  breathed  an  infection  of  valor  around  them  —  a 
bacillus  of  intrepidity  which  their  major  had  cultivated 
with  the  point  of  his  untiring  sword. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  TRAP 

"^  I^HAT  our  friends  have  left  is  obvious,"  said 
J_  Daoud.  "The  question  is  how  long  ago  and 
whither." 

The  litter  of  a  recently  disturbed  encampment  cum- 
bered the  ground.  Rags,  the  feathers  of  lately  plucked 
chickens,  the  ashes  of  recently  extinguished  fires 
abounded.  But  whether  the  camp  had  been  struck 
days  or  only  hours  before  it  was  impossible  to  determine. 
Night  as  well  as  day  had  been  rainless,  and  the  dry  dust 
left  no  trail  perceptible  to  European  eyes.  Daoud,  how- 
ever, examined  the  soil  carefully. 

"They  have  gone  south,"  he  declared  at  last.  "They 
have  struck  out  of  the  forest  and  back  towards  the  plain. 
This  grows  interesting." 

Perinaud  gave  a  sniff. 

"The  reason  is  obvious,"  he  said  a  little  contemptu- 
ously. "Where  did  they  obtain  water?  From  the  spring 
which  welled  up  at  the  foot  of  that  cactus  to  the  left. 
But  now  it  is  dry  and  cracking  mud." 

Daoud  nodded  grudgingly. 

"Possibly,"  he  allowed.  "The  nearest  wells  are  at 
Ain  Djemma." 

"Held  in  force  by  two  companies  of  the  Legion," 
said  Perinaud.  "They  are  hardly  likely  to  show  them- 
selves there.  No,  if  they  have  gone  south  they  are  seek- 
ing the  Wad  el  Mella.  They  will  follow  the  stream 


144  THE    PURSUIT 

through  the  gorge  towards  their  own  foothills  from  which 
it  issues." 

"This  river?    How  far  is  it?"  asked  Aylmer. 

"Eight  kilometres,  possibly  ten,"  said  Perinaud. 
"There  are  duars  and  encampments  along  its  banks  in 
a  dozen  places.  We  ought  to  get  news  of  our  men, 
even  if  we  do  not  overtake  them." 

"Our  horses  have  come  a  matter  of  thirty  kilometres 
already,"  said  Aylmer. 

"Then  as  soon  as  possible  they  must  do  ten  more," 
answered  the  sergeant,  energetically.  "Without  water 
we  cannot  camp,  any  more  than  our  friends  of  the  Beni 
M'Geel.  Enavance!" 

Aylmer  drew  his  horse  up  beside  Perinaud's  as  for 
the  second  time  they  left  the  shelter  of  the  trees  and 
ambled  out  on  to  the  plain.  The  westering  sun  was 
turning  it  to  broad  belts  of  dun,  and  yellow,  and  green, 
as  the  slanting  beams  fell  upon  earth,  or  marigold 
weed,  or  crops.  Four  or  five  miles  distant  to  their 
front  the  rolling  uplands  culminated  in  a  belt  of  squat 
but  far-branching  trees. 

"There,  one  may  suppose,  are  the  river  and  the 
gorge,"  he  suggested.  "The  inhabitants  of  these  duars, 
of  which  you  speak?  How  will  they  greet  us?" 

Perinaud  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"It  remains  for  Fate  to  show  us,  Monsieur.  There 
were  some  drastic  whippings  of  the  Moors  within 
this  district  a  few  weeks  back.  How  well  they  have 
learned  the  lesson  taught  them  then  we  shall  have  to 
prove." 

Aylmer  hesitated. 

"It  is  not  with  the  purpose  of  getting  embroiled  in 
skirmishes  that  I  have  come,"  he  said  quietly.  "You 


THE    TRAP  145 

understand  that  my  duty,  for  the  moment,  is  to  keep 
myself  alive  until  my  object  is  achieved." 

Perinaud  grinned  drily. 

"That  is  a  remark  which  a  poltroon  would  not  have 
dared  to  make,  Monsieur,  and  shows  you  to  be  a  brave 
man.  Be  assured  that  my  efforts  towards  maintaining 
an  unperforated  skin  will  be  as  energetic  as  your  own. 
Hysterical  madness,  such  as  we  were  involved  in  in  the 
forest,  shall  not  recur,  if  I  can  help  it.  My  purpose  is  to 
camp,  as  soon  as  we  reach  water,  and  then  to  allow 
your  omniscient  Monsieur  Daoud  to  conduct  his  in- 
vestigations under  cover  of  the  darkness." 

As  the  red  disk  of  the  sun  sank  below  the  seaward 
horizon,  they  topped  the  gentle  rise  which  terminated  in 
a  belt  of  trees.  Not  far  below  them,  belling  musically 
through  the  dusk,  came  the  song  of  the  ripples.  Half 
a  mile  away,  on  the  far  side  of  the  gorge,  a  dim  light 
twinkled  in  the  growing  darkness. 

Perinaud  pointed  towards  a  group  of  palms. 

"Here,  Monsieur,"  he  explained,  "you  will  find  dry 
earth.  You  have  your  cloak.  Your  saddle  is  a  practical 
pillow.  I  have  bread,  a  ration  or  two  of  preserved  soup, 
some  beans,  coffee,  a  tin  of  milk,  sugar.  At  the  duar, 
where  we  see  that  light,  are  —  possibly  —  chickens.  But 
we  are  quite  as  likely  to  receive  a  bullet.  What  does 
Monsieur  advise?" 

Aylmer  smiled. 

"An  immediate  picnic.  In  the  friendliest  of  duars 
cannibal  hordes  thirsting  for  our  blood  would  await  us, 
if  we  were  reckless  enough  to  sleep  among  them.  I 
prefer  to  housekeep  a  la  belle  etoile" 

The  sergeant  nodded  and  gave  his  orders.  Sentries 
slipped  right  and  left  into  the  night.  A  tiny  fire  was 

10 


146  THE    PURSUIT 

kindled  in  a  hollow  between  two  boulders.  The  tins  of 
preserved  soup  gave  up  their  secrets,  and  the  ration 
bread  proved  that  the  military  bakers  of  France  have 
discovered  the  secret  of  making  loaves  which  will  re- 
main fresh  and  eatable  through  a  whole  week  of  desert 
marches.  Coffee  succeeded  —  coffee  made  in  the  empty 
vegetable  tin,  and  worthy  of  Maxim's  or  the  Ritz. 

Daoud  drank  his  portion,  shrugged  his  shoulders  fatal- 
istically at  the  sleeping  places  which  the  Goumiers  were 
preparing,  and  then,  without  comment,  vanished  into  the 
night. 

Aylmer  lay  back  upon  his  cloak,  his  head  pillowed 
upon  his  arm,  his  pipe  between  his  teeth.  He  was  en- 
joying to  the  full  the  sensations  of  a  pleasantly  weary 
and  well-fed  horseman.  The  first  drowsy  challenge  of 
sleep  touched  his  eyes  and  brain. 

The  very  next  instant,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  he  was  on 
his  feet,  revolver  in  hand,  searching  the  dark  aisles  of 
the  forest  on  either  side.  A  shout  had  echoed  from  one 
of  the  sentries,  a  hoarse  challenge  followed  almost  on 
the  instant  by  a  shot. 

The  cry  was  repeated,  shriller  this  time  with  the  in- 
sistence of  anxiety.  "Au  secours!"  came  the  Goumier's 
voice.  "Au  secours!  There  are  a  score  of  them;  they 
are  all  around  me  1 " 

In  silence,  but  with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  Perinaud 
dispersed  his  men  into  open  order  and  doubled  towards 
the  sounds  of  conflict.  Aylmer  ran  with  them,  making 
more  noise  in  his  heavy  boots  than  the  whole  of  the 
party  made  in  their  souliers.  He  heard  Perinaud  whis- 
per an  emphatic  oath  of  disgust  as  he  tripped  over  a 
fallen  branch  and  smashed  heavily  through  a  cactus 
bush.  The  next  instant  both  of  them  fell  together,  over 


THE    TRAP  147 

a  soft,  woolly  obstruction,  which  stirred  faintly  under 
their  feet.  Meanwhile,  half  a  dozen  rifles  were  flashing 
red  in  the  night,  and  the  woodland  echoes  tossed  the 
reports  from  thicket  to  thicket. 

Perinaud  swore  again  viciously,  scrambled  to  his  feet, 
and  shouted. 

"Imbeciles!  Cease  fire!"  he  thundered.  "They  are 
sheep,  these  Moors  of  yours,  sheep!  A  pretty  night's 
work !  You  have  killed  probably  a  dozen,  and  we  have 
no  means  of  transport." 

Shamefacedly  the  Goumiers  crowded  round  to  feel  the 
fatness  of  the  victim  which  had  lain  in  Aylmer's  path. 
As  they  felt  and  appraised  it,  their  voices  resumed  a 
note  of  philosophic  content.  It  was  indeed  a  slur  upon 
the  collectedness  of  the  Goumiers  as  a  whole  that  Hassan 
el  Fehmi,  the  sentry,  had  been  betrayed  into  this  indis- 
cretion. But  the  dead  sheep,  look  you,  was  of  an  un- 
looked-for plumpness,  and  breakfast  must  be  partaken 
of  sooner  or  later.  There  would  be  cutlets,  and  room 
might  be  found  on  a  saddle  or  two  for  a  couple  of  gigots. 
No,  this  was  not  all  loss,  this  night  alarm.  There  were 
compensations. 

Perinaud  declined  to  meet  these  representations  in  the 
spirit  in  which  they  were  made. 

"Looters!  Robbers  of  hen  roosts !"  he  cried.  "The 
whole  of  your  thoughts  are  centered,  as  ever,  on  your 
unworthy  stomachs.  The  compensation  for  this  outrage 
will  be  made  to  the  owners  from  your  pay,  let  me  tell 
you,  from  your  pay!  You  have  raised  the  country  on 
us  with  your  shootings;  within  a  matter  of  minutes  we 
shall  have  the  Moors  here  in  earnest,  be  assured  of  that ! " 

Wrathfully  he  led  the  way  back  to  the  bivouac  and 
carefully  extinguished  every  cinder  of  the  fire. 


i48  THE    PURSUIT 

"And  now,"  he  ordered,  "our  duty  is  to  wait  —  be- 
side our  horses.  If  it  will  not  inconvenience  Monsieur, 
I  should  be  obliged  if  he  will  defer  sleeping,  for  the 
present.  If  we  are  not  molested  for  the  next  hour  or 
two,  it  will  be  different.  The  moon  rises  before  mid- 
night and  after  that  a  couple  of  sentries  will  amply 
suffice." 

It  was  a  memory  which  stayed  by  Aylmer  for  many 
a  month  —  that  long,  silent,  and  very  weary  vigil  of  the 
next  few  hours.  He  sat,  with  his  back  supported  by  a 
palm  trunk,  the  haltering  rein  of  his  horse  in  his  hand, 
his  eyes  trying  vainly  to  pierce  the  gloom  which  sur- 
rounded him,  and  his  ears  strained  to  attention. 

The  forest,  though  in  the  windless  calm  not  a  leaf 
fluttered,  was  full  of  disquieting  noises.  There  were 
rustlings,  faint,  half  perceptible  crackings  of  twigs,  dull, 
muffled,  resistant  sounds  from  the  earth  which  must  surely 
be  caused  by  human  footfall.  Once  his  whole  frame 
sprung  into  startled  alertness  as  a  night  bird  shrieked  in 
the  cork  branches  not  twenty  yards  away.  The  faint  but 
distinct  after-echo  of  a  chorussed  sigh  told  him  how  a 
dozen  other  pulses  had  leaped  with  his.  The  quick,  ir- 
regular darting  run  of  a  small  animal  —  a  jerboa  or  a 
forest  rat  —  produced  a  little  less  disturbing  effect.  But 
the  soft,  stolid  breathing  of  his  horse,  as  its  breath  beat 
past  his  shoulder,  was  a  soothing,  soporific  sound  which 
his  nerves  welcomed,  yet  seemed  to  protest  against  as 
tending  to  lull  him  into  an  unalert  insecurity.  With  a 
sudden  qualm  of  reproach  he  found  his  head  dropping 
sideways  and  smiting  lightly  the  trunk  of  the  palm.  He 
drew  himself  up  with  a  quick,  decisive  tautening  of  his 
muscles.  He  would  not  sleep;  his  eyelids  almost  ached 
with  the  intensity  with  which  he  held  them  apart. 


THE    TRAP  149 

Sleep,  like  fate,  is  a  tricky  jade  to  defy.  It  was  Per- 
inaud's  voice,  level  and  stolid,  but  with  a  faint  note  of 
sarcasm,  which  aroused  him. 

"Monsieur  may  now  sleep  in  comfort  if  he  will,"  sug- 
gested the  sergeant.  "There  is  little  fear  from  surprise 
with  such  a  moon." 

Aylmer  blinked.  The  round  white  orb  was  sending 
its  rays  in  full  flood  through  the  broad  fans  of  the  palm 
leaves  overhead.  It  tinged  the  cork  trees  with  silver 
radiance;  it  produced  an  effect  of  grateful  coolness  in 
the  cinder-dry  thickets  and  powdery  earth.  It  was  as  if 
dew  had  fallen,  a  dew  of  light.  And  the  shadows  of  the 
gorge  were  of  a  velvet  blackness  in  contrast. 

Aylmer  looked  carefully  round.  It  was  as  Perinaud 
said.  The  forest  spaces  were  clear;  one  could  trace 
them  almost  as  distinctly  as  in  the  daylight.  No  enemy 
could  steal  upon  them  unseen. 

And  so  it  was  with  a  little  sigh  of  content  that  he 
laid  his  head  back  upon  his  saddle,  pulled  his  cloak 
more  disposedly  about  him,  and  prepared  to  give  nature 
freely  what  during  the  past  three  hours  she  had  stolen. 

With  the  usual  result.  Sleep  deserted  him.  He  closed 
his  eyes  resolutely ;  he  breathed  with  exact  precision ;  he 
even  counted  an  imaginary  flock  of  sheep  as  they  passsd 
sedately  between  two  supposititious  hurdles.  He  re- 
mained broadly  awake,  his  eyes  rebelling  against  their 
imprisonment  till  at  last  he  gave  up  trying  to  coerce 
them.  He  searched  his  pocket,  found  tobacco  and  a 
pipe,  and  smoked.  His  brain  became  suddenly  active. 

He  reviewed  the  circumstances  of  the  last  few  days. 
He  debated  his  position,  appraised  his  progress.  It  was 
typical  of  his  temperament  alequability  that  he  did  this ; 
it  was  part  of  the  dogged  resolution  with  which  he  ap- 


i5o  THE    PURSUIT 

proached  the  vital  problems  of  his  career.  He  knew  that 
for  the  first  time  he  had  encountered  passion,  and  that 
it  had  mastered  him.  He  had  seen  Claire  Van  Arlen 
perhaps  half  a  dozen  times  before  he  realized  this,  and 
realized  it,  too,  with  a  certain  ingenuous  wonder  at  the 
thing  which  had  such  power  over  him.  But  he  had  made 
no  attempt  to  combat  it.  He  knew  that  this  girl  had 
become  for  him  the  pivot  of  existence.  As  matters  had 
gone,  he  had  scarcely  had  the  opportunity  for  introspec- 
tion. Passion  had  gripped  him,  and  now  passion's  au- 
thority had  gone  beyond  the  limits  of  question.  He  set 
his  face  unswervingly  towards  his  goal.  The  days  of 
debating  an  alternative  path  had  gone  by. 

He  sighed.  Up  the  path  he  had  chosen  had  he  made 
any  progress?  Yes,  one  great  step  had  been  taken. 
She  knew  the  goal  he  sought ;  he  had  made  it  absolutely 
plain.  He  had  read  repulse  in  her  eyes  as  she  first 
divined  it.  He  had  read  it  again,  but  tinged  with  a  thrill 
of  curiosity,  at  his  second  allusion.  The  third  time? 
There  he  was  beaten.  She  had  seemed  to  fling  him  a 
sort  of  encouragement.  Why?  What  was  her  inten- 
tion here?  She  had  not  softened  towards  him;  instinct 
told  him  that.  And  yet  —  and  yet.  He  sighed  again. 
There  were  many  barriers  in  this  road  he  had  set  out 
upon  —  barriers  which  must  be  levelled  one  by  one. 
Dislike,  suspicion,  but  not,  thank  God,  apathy.  No  — 
from  the  first  he  had  interested  her  —  from  the  moment 
of  their  first  meeting  he  had  been  forced  into  prominence 
in  her  regard. 

A  hand  fell  lightly  upon  his  shoulder,  bringing  him 
back  with  a  start  from  the  possibilities  of  romance  to 
the  facts  of  an  everyday  African  world.  The  most  en- 
grossing of  these,  for  the  moment,  was  Daoud's  face. 


THE    TRAP  151 

There  was  a  sense  of  importance  in  the  Moor's  as- 
pect, the  importance  of  discovery.  Aylmer  realized  this 
at  once. 

"  You  have  discovered  —  what  ? "  he  asked  sharply. 

Daoud  waved  his  hand  with  a  magnificent  and  com- 
prehensive gesture. 

"All,  Sidi,"  he  answered.  "The  two  we  seek,  with 
the  child,  are  in  an  encampment  of  Berber  tribesmen 
within  an  hour's  march." 

Aylmer  scrambled  to  his  feet.  He  made  but  little 
noise  as  he  did  so,  but  there  was  a  corresponding  move- 
ment in  the  half-dozen  recumbent  figures  beside  him. 
Perinaud,  raising  himself  upon  his  elbow,  looked  thought- 
fully at  the  scout. 

"Well,  my  friend?"  he  asked  amiably.  "Your  re- 
searches take  us  where  ?  " 

"Five  miles  further  up  the  ravine,"  said  Daoud.  "It 
is  more  than  a  camp.  A  village  of  some  importance. 
Our  friend  who  escaped  from  the  broom  thicket  has  not 
arrived  there.  There  was  no  alertness,  no  watch  kept. 
By  the  time  I  left  snores  were  echoing  from  practically 
every  tent  and  dwelling  of  mud.  We  are  not  expected." 

Perinaud  nodded. 

"Bien.    The  moment  of  attack  then —  ?" 

"Is  now,  Sidi.  By  the  time  we  reach  it  the  dawn  will 
have  come." 

Aylmer  fumbled  for  his  watch.  It  was  true.  The 
hour  was  between  four  and  five.  The  wan  light  of  the 
false  morning  was,  indeed,  faintly  paling  the  east.  He 
looked  at  Perinaud. 

The  sergeant  nodded. 

"Short  rest  for  the  horses,  Monsieur,"  he  said,  "but 
that  we  cannot  help.  The  time  is  short  enough,  as  it  is." 


i5a  THE    PURSUIT 

He  motioned  the  waiting  figures  of  the  Goumiers  into 
activity.  The  sentries  were  recalled.  A  tiny  fire  was 
kindled,  and  coffee  made  with  incredible  quickness  while 
the  saddles  were  being  flung  upon  the  horses'  backs. 

Aylmer  gulped  his  portion  gratefully,  for  the  dew- 
brimmed  air  was  chill.  But  within  twenty  minutes  of 
Daoud's  return,  the  half  score  of  horsemen  were  follow- 
ing him  in  single  file  along  the  river  bank. 

Progress  was  slow,  the  path  imperceptible  or  devious. 
The  light  of  morning  was  no  longer  yellow,  but  alive 
with  the  rose  red  of  sunrise  as  they  halted,  at  a  gesture 
from  their  leader,  and  gazed  between  the  trunks  of  a 
grove  of  palms. 

White  against  the  green  of  crops  a  dozen  houses  lined 
the  edge  of  an  oval  space,  which  some  winter  floods  of 
bygone  years  had  hewn  deep  in  the  surrounding  allu- 
vial soil.  The  forest  thickets  grew  up  to  the  fringe  of  the 
arable  land,  divided  from  it  by  hedges  of  cactus.  Be- 
tween the  house  and  the  river  was  an  encampment  of 
brown,  dilapidated  tents.  The  land  immediately  in 
front  of  these  was  bare  and  open,  as  if  some  ceaseless 
traffic  had  beaten  all  vegetation  down.  On  an  eminence 
stood  a  lime-washed,  dome-topped  shrine. 

"If  possible,  we  should  surround  and  examine  each 
house  or  tent  in  silence,  and  one  by  one,"  suggested 
Daoud. 

"A  matter  of  hours,"  said  Perinaud.  "No,  let  our 
men  form  rank  where  their  rifles  command  each  door- 
way, and  I  will  see  to  the  summoning  of  the  inhabitants. 
For  the  moment,  softly.  Keep  your  horses  off  the  rock, 
but  avoid  the  thickest  of  the  jungle.  Show  judgment, 
my  children,  show  judgment ! " 

He  finished  with  a  little  oath  of  surprise.    For  almost 


THE    TRAP  153 

at  his  horse's  feet,  or,  at  the  furthest,  a  bare  five  yards 
from  him,  a  man  had  suddenly  risen  from  a  thicket  — 
a  man  clad  in  a  dirty  djelab,  who  viewed  the  sitting 
horsemen  with  every  sign  of  amazement  and  sudden 
panic.  In  another  moment,  and  with  a  shrill  cry,  he  had 
darted  through  the  palm  grove  and  was  flying  across  the 
crop  lands,  straight  towards  the  line  of  silent  tents. 

Perinaud  struck  spurs  into  his  stallion. 

"Take  him !  "  he  cried,  and  his  voice  had  a  queer  note 
of  exasperation  as  he  tried  to  make  it  vehement  and  yet 
hold  it  below  the  level  of  a  shout.  He  led  the  charge 
which  raced  across  the  herbage.  Aylmer,  carried  away 
by  the  sudden  infection  of  repressed  excitement,  thun- 
dered at  his  side.  The  dark  spot  of  brown  made  by  the 
djelab  of  the  fugitive  seemed,  for  the  moment,  to  com- 
prehend all  that  was  vital  in  existence.  He  must  not 
reach  the  tents,  he  must  not  give  the  alarm.  Although 
he  was  a  matter  of  fifty  yards  or  more  behind  his  quarry, 
owing  to  the  start  the  runner  had  gained  by  the  inter- 
vening palms,  Aylmer  began  to  lean  forward  in  the  sad- 
dle, to  thrust  out  his  arm,  feel  a  tenseness,  a  twitching 
in  his  fingers  as  if  he  already  grasped  the  hood  of  the 
garment  which  rose  and  fell  with  its  owner's  every  stride. 

A  yell  burst  from  Perinaud's  lips  —  a  yell  of  rage  and 
warning ! 

"A  trap!"  he  cried.  "The  silos!  The  silos!  Pull 
wide !  Pull  wide !  " 

Aylmer  heard  a  crash.  A  Goumier  on  his  right  seemed 
to  have  been  swallowed  with  his  horse  into  the  very 
earth.  He  gripped  his  own  rein,  moved  by  a  sudden  and 
imperfectly  comprehended  pulse  of  fear,  and  wrenched 
at  nis  bridle.  His  horse  fought  under  the  strain,  made  a 
half-hearted  attempt  to  halt,  and  was  carried  by  mere 


154  THE    PURSUIT 

impetus  another  fifty  yards.  There  came  another  crash ; 
another  Goumier's  horse  disappeared,  while  the  man, 
spilled  from  the  saddle,  rolled  over  a  dozen  times  across 
the  hardened  flat.  Perinaud's  stallion,  its  eyes  wild,  its 
nostrils  round  with  terror,  spread  out  its  legs  and  skated 
forward  to  the  very  brink  of  —  what  ? 

A  huge  round  hole,  beneath  which  was  darkness  only. 
Aylmer  saw  it,  saw  that  he  himself  must  reach  it,  and 
comprehended  as  in  a  flash  the  sergeant's  cry. 

The  silos ! 

Even  his  narrow  experience  of  things  Moroquin  had 
taught  him  what  the  word  meant.  They  were  the  under- 
ground grain  cellars  of  the  villagers,  sunk  in  the  earth, 
unfenced,  often  coverless,  and,  as  now,  open  traps  for  the 
unwary.  The  thought  and  the  flash  of  apprehension 
which  it  kindled  added  force  to  the  grip  with  which  he 
tore  at  the  reins. 

Too  late  1 

His  realization  of  the  hideous  fall  which  was  inevitable 
was  swift  as  a  lightning  flash,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  the 
thing  itself  seemed  to  arrive  with  a  horrible  deliberation. 
His  thews  were  tense,  his  knees  clutched  the  saddle. 
And  then,  and  the  feeling  was  as  if  he  watched  for  the 
culmination  of  a  well-understood  and  expected  move- 
ment of  familiar  machinery  —  his  horse's  feet  slid  grudg- 
ingly over  the  edge.  The  black  hole  in  the  earth  rose 
instantly  —  rose  and  sucked  him  down.  There  was  a 
shock  and  then  night  fell  —  a  night  impenetrable. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ONE   SIDE   OF   A   BARGAIN 

T  'S  the  pig  man,"  said  a  childish  voice.    "The  man 
what  lifted  me  out  of  the  way  of  the  boar." 

Aylmer  blinked.  Himself  in  the  shadow,  he  was  aware 
of  a  figure  opposite  him  in  the  center  of  a  circle  of  light. 
He  lay,  apparently,  in  a  circular  and  unfurnished  room, 
lit  by  an  unglazed  skylight  alone.  The  figure,  which  sat 
cross-legged  on  a  lump  which  his  returning  senses  discov- 
ered to  be  a  dead  horse,  wore  the  white  haik  and  the 
bournous  of  a  Moor.  The  hood  was  drawn  back,  show- 
ing bronzed  aquiline  features  and  a  brown  beard,  but  the 
man's  eyes  were  blue.  Aylmer  studied  the  face  with  a 
feeling  of  bewilderment  which  gradually  became  irrita- 
tion. He  was  stunned,  but  consciousness  had  so  far 
returned  that  he  knew  himself  stunned,  and  knew,  also, 
that  his  brain  was  confronting  a  problem  which  his  normal 
powers  would  have  grappled  with  easily.  He  ought  to 
be  able  to  recognize  his  visitor;  there  was  familiarity, 
there  was  recognition  in  the  man's  sneering  smile.  And 
yet,  who  was  he?  Aylmer  moved  restlessly,  petulantly. 
An  excruciating  pang  leaped  up  through  his  shoulder  and 
made  him  gasp.  The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Dislocated,  I  fear,"  he  said  in  level  English  accents. 
"  And  the  collar-bone  most  certainly  fractured." 

Aylmer's  ear  served  him  where  his  eyes  had  failed. 
The  voice  was  Landon's.  It  was  his  cousin  who  sat 


i56  THE    PURSUIT 

opposite  him,  smiling  evilly  from   the  shadow  of  the 
haik. 

Something  touched  the  wounded  shoulder  lightly,  but 
not  so  lightly  but  that  Aylmer  winced  again. 

"Poor  —  poor!"  said  the  childish  voice  again  com- 
miseratingly.  "Is  it  badly  hurted?  When  I  fell  off  my 
pony  they  rubbed  me  wiv  butter." 

It  was  his  little  namesake,  swaddled  in  white  flowing 
garments,  who  stood  at  his  elbow,  peering  into  his  face 
with  anxious  eyes. 

Aylmer  pulled  himself  into  a  sitting  position,  not 
without  intense  pain.  But  the  throb  of  his  wounded 
arm  seemed  to  awake  his  dulled  consciousness.  He 
looked  from  father  to  son  without  bewilderment.  His 
understanding  had  fully  regained  command  of  the 
situation. 

His  first  action  was  typical  of  the  man;  he  fumbled 
with  his  left  hand  at  his  holster. 

Landon  laughed. 

"Empty,  my  dear  John,"  he  said.  "Fogs,  gales,  the 
menacing  hand  of  nature  I  do  not  pretend  to  have  my 
remedy  for.  But  I  retain  the  common-sense  which  de- 
prives my  enemy  of  a  weapon,  when  opportunity  is  my 
friend." 

Aylmer  was  still  silent.  Landon  gave  a  self-satisfied 
little  nod  of  the  head,  a  little  motion  which  implied  the 
insolence  of  triumph  fully  enjoyed. 

"  And  by  opportunity,  please  understand  that  I  do  not 
refer  to  mere  chance,"  he  went  on.  "The  little  ruse  de 
guerre  by  which  you  and  your  associates  were  drawn  into 
this  trap  was  the  product  of  an  active  brain,  not  mine,  I 
grieve  to  say.  A  friend  who  has  seen  much  of  desert 
bickerings  did  not  invent  but  adapted  it.  I  don't  think 


ONE    SIDE    OF    A    BARGAIN         157 

many  of  your  beautiful  Goumiers  escaped  him  and  his 
allies." 

There  was  something  more  than  disgust  and  repulsion 
in  the  glance  with  which  Aylmer  regarded  his  cousin. 
It  was,  perhaps,  wonder. 

"Libertine  —  blackmailer  —  spy  —  and  thief  —  you 
have  proved  yourself  all  of  these  within  the  space  of  half 
a  dozen  years,"  he  said  quietly.  "  And  now,  traitor,  and, 
I  suppose,  assassin.  It  puzzles  me.  Clean  living  is  n't 
so  hard,  and  yet,  you  have  never  tried  it,  never !" 

A  queer  line  showed  in  Landon's  cheek,  as  his  lips 
tightened  against  each  other.  And  then  he  laughed 
again  —  a  harsh,  unconvincing  little  laugh. 

"  Is  the  first  line  of  attack  an  appeal  to  my  better  na- 
ture?" he  asked.  "  Omit  it,  my  friend.  However  good 
your  aim,  you  cannot  reach  a  target  which,  to  be  frank, 
is  non-existent.  Appeals  to  my  self-interest  find  me  alert, 
but  to  my  conscience,  chill  as  ice.  We  may  chaffer,  you 
and  I,  but  on  strictly  business  lines." 

He  settled  himself  back  upon  the  dead  horse's  shoul- 
der, pulled  out  a  silver  case,  and  selected  a  cigarette. 
He  lit  it,  talking  slowly,  between  puffs. 

"  My  apparently  unkinsmanlike  conduct  in  offering  no 
attention  to  your  wound  is  easily  explained.  It  is  a  small 
matter,  involved  in  far  larger  issues.  If  you  meet  my 
terms,  our  limited  resources  in  that  and  other  matters 
will  be  at  your  service.  If  not—  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders  placidly.  "Well,  I  do  not  suppose  a  prison 
governor  pays  attention  to  the  condemned's  complaints 
of  his  breakfast  egg  on  the  morning  of  execution." 

He  moved,  leaning  forward  at  last,  his  elbows  on  his 
knees,  his  palms  supporting  his  chin.  And  he  looked 
down  at  Aylmer  malignantly. 


158  THE    PURSUIT 

"And  I  have  you  here  to  make  or  break  as  I  will,"  he 
said.  "By  God!  Opportunity  doesn't  call  me  twice. 
I  clutch  her!" 

The  child  turned  with  a  little  start,  looking  at  his  father 
with  puzzled  but  not  apprehensive  eyes.  The  note  of 
malice  in  that  voice  was  evidently  strange  to  him,  and 
Aylmer,  as  he  understood  this  fact,  breathed  a  tiny  sigh  of 
relief.  The  child,  at  any  rate,  did  not  suffer  ill-treatment. 

Landon  saw  the  motion  and  his  features  relaxed  into 
something  like  affection. 

He  held  out  his  hands. 

"Come  here,  my  son,"  he  said.  "Go  and  find  Mu- 
hammed." 

As  the  child  ran  forward,  he  caught  him  deftly  and 
without  a  pause  of  energy  tossed  him  up  and  out  into  the 
sunlight.  Aylmer  heard  the  boy's  cry  of  welcome  and 
laugh  of  delight,  as  his  footsteps  pattered  over  the  roof  of 
the  cellar  and  were  lost.  Muhammed,  whoever  that  might 
be,  was  evidently  not  far  away. 

His  father  settled  down  upon  his  seat  again. 

"That,"  he  said,  with  an  upward  jerk  of  the  shoulder 
towards  the  opening  above  his  head,  "  that  is  one  of  the 
things  I  have  been  robbed  of.  Also  my  comfort,  my 
credit,  my  security,  my  ease.  I  have  had  to  endure  un- 
pleasantness. I  have  had  to  descend,  though  as  a  mental 
exercise  I  do  not  count  it  a  descent,  to  crime.  Life,  in 
fact,  has  been  difficult  for  me  lately,  owing  to  the  action 
of  certain  people  —  with  whom  you  appear  to  have 
allied  yourself.  You  and  they  have  to  get  matters  in  a 
different  perspective.  Your  efforts  in  future  must  be 
for,  not  against,  me.  They  must,  indeed,  be  directed 
to  effacing  unfortunate  circumstances  in  the  past  which 
are  detrimental  to  my  well-being.  That  must  be 


ONE    SIDE    OF    A    BARGAIN         159 

fully  understood  before  we  even  begin  to  talk  of 
terms." 

He  looked  up  at  Aylmer  with  a  sudden  quick,  specula- 
tive flash  of  the  eyes.  The  other  met  it  steadily  and 
equably. 

"Have  we  begun  —  to  discuss  terms?"   he  asked. 

"No!"  Landon  snapped  the  monosyllable  with  con- 
temptuous emphasis.  "No!  I  don't  discuss  them,  let 
me  tell  you.  I  make  them ! " 

Aylmer  met  the  announcement  with  a  smile. 

"Ah,"  he  said  quietly,  and  something  in  his  tone 
seemed  to  whip  Landon' s  restrained  spite  over  the  border- 
line of  fury. 

"Damn  you!"  he  cried,  "do  you  think  I  can't  and 
won't  humble  the  lot  of  you;  do  you  think  I  'm  to  be 
robbed  of  the  winning  ace  now,  when  I  've  got  it  in  my 
hand  ?  I  tell  you  there  is  n't  a  thing  in  me  you  can  appeal 
to.  I  've  shunted  notions ;  I  'm  out  for  the  stuff;  I  'm  in 
business 'for  myself,  for  me!" 

He  swayed  to  and  fro  upon  the  carcase,  his  face  livid, 
his  fingers  unconsciously  twining  and  plaiting  the  dead 
animal's  mane.  His  teeth  flashed,  attracting,  as  it  were, 
the  core  of  the  little  light  which  reached  the  gloom  — 
attracting  it  to  intensify  his  fierce  animal  fury.  For,  as 
he  swayed,  and  swore,  the  teeth  shone  behind  his  red 
lips  like  the  fangs  of  a  cornered  wolf. 

And  then,  suddenly,  darkly,  the  emotion  was  planed 
from  his  face.  His  features  became  mask-like  in  their 
imperturbability. 

"You  had  better  listen  carefully,"  he  said.  "First,  I 
keep  the  boy.  That  goes  without  saying.  I  've  got  him. 
Secondly,  they  give  me  their  engagement  under  bond  not 
to  molest  me  in  my  possession  of  him  if  I  choose  to  visit 


160  THE    PURSUIT 

America  or  England,  or  even  if  I  marry  again.  Thirdly, 
old  man  Van  Arlen  pays  me  ten  thousand  pounds  — 
pounds,  mind,  not  dollars  —  within  a  week  from  now, 
and  on  the  same  date  every  year.  Fourthly,  you  explain 
away  the  matter  of  the  book  I  borrowed  from  your 
library.  Explain  it  as  you  like;  say  I  was  drunk  or  in- 
sane or  any  sort  of  lie  which  suits  you  best.  You  '11  have 
to  give  me  your  word  of  honor  to  do  your  best  about 
that;  I  '11  take  it,  because  I  know  you  believe  in  these 
shibboleths.  Lastly,  they  're  to  keep  quiet  while  I  have 
a  free  hand  with  Despard." 

Aylmer  gave  an  involuntary  start,  and  Landon 
snarled  —  there  is  no  other  word  for  it  —  with  savage 
rage. 

"  By  God,  they  've  got  to  stand  by  and  see  me  break 
him !  He 's  hunted  me  through  the  courts  and  through 
the  press  of  two  hemispheres.  He  shall  have  his  turn. 
Not  all  in  a  moment,  either.  A  word  here  and  a  word 
there.  A  paragraph  or  two  where  they  can't  well  be 
missed.  Then  rumors,  and  then  a  circumstantial  story. 
Rush  him  into  action  and  then,  slowly,  thoroughly,  and 
perfectly  plainly,  bowl  him  out.  Eh,  that  will  be  the  gilded 
roof  on  the  whole  thing. '  Despard  down  in  the  mud  — 
Despard  .  .  .  broken!" 

His  fingers  ceased  their  wandering.  He  sat  motion- 
less, his  eyes  staring  gloatingly  into  the  gloom  over  Ayl- 
mer's  head.  It  was  as  if  he  saw  visions  of  evil  triumph 
limned  upon  the  walls. 

Aylmer  lay  very  still.  The  sense  of  inertia  which  had 
been  overpowering  when  consciousness  first  revived  was 
passing  away.  His  brain  was  clear.  He  realized  that  for 
all  practical  purposes  he  was  in  the  hands  of  a  madman, 
or  of  a  man  so  far  enthralled  by  a  very  possession  of  wick- 


ONE    SIDE    OF    A    BARGAIN         161 

edness  that  he  might  be  reckoned  insane.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  await  events. 

Landon  dropped  his  eyes. 

"Do  you  see?"  he  asked.  " That 's  your  job.  To 
go  to  them  and  tell  them.  Do  you  understand  ?" 

Aylmer  shook  his  head. 

"I  hear  your  price  —  for  what?"  he  asked.  "It's  a 
one-sided  bargain,  so  far." 

"The  goods  that  I  have  to  deliver,"  said  Landon, 
slowly,  "  are  what  I  put  safely  out  of  your  way  a  moment 
ago.  That  boy's  health,  and  mental  and  —  moral,  too, 
if  you  like  —  strength.  Do  you  get  the  notion  ?  " 

For  a  moment  the  silence  remained  unbroken.  Then 
Aylmer  spoke. 

"  You  devil ! "  he  said  slowly.    "  You  incarnate  fiend ! " 

Landon  laughed  again,  with  complacent  satisfaction. 

"You  do  get  the  notion,"  he  said.  "Let  your  mind 
dwell  upon  it,  give  it  deliberation.  I  sha'n't  kill  the  boy, 
oh,  not  for  a  long  time.  I  shall  keep  him  alive;  he'll 
even  enjoy  the  process.  I  '11  bring  him  up  carefully,  very 
carefully.  There  is  n't  a  form  of  life  as  I  've  seen  it  that 
he  sha'n't  be  familiar  with.  You  may  hunt  me  from 
England;  you  may  make  it  hot  for  me  in  Europe  and 
America.  There  are  plenty  of  lively  resorts  in  this  good 
old  continent  of  Africa  which  will  amply  fulfill  my  pur- 
pose. I  '11  put  him  through  the  mill ;  I  '11  begin  early, 
too.  I  sha'n't  leave  much  to  luck.  If  by  any  chance  you 
brought  about  my  death,  and  I  credit  you  with  grit 
enough  to  attempt  it,  you  '11  find  the  kid  well-grounded. 
He  shall  be  his  father's  son,  and  a  bit  more.  I  had  n't  the 
advantages  he  's  going  to  have." 

The  flush  of  anger  which  had  mounted  to  Aylmer's 
face  was  gone  now.  He  looked  at  Landon  keenly,  indeed, 

11 


162  THE    PURSUIT 

but  with  more  curiosity  than  wrath.  His  voice  was 
quite  controlled. 

"And  in  the  alternative?"  he  asked.  "In  any  case 
you  keep  him.  What  do  we  gain  by  meeting  your  terms  ?  " 

Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  He  has  his  chance,  then,  against  the  World,  the  Flesh 
and  the  Devil  with  the  rest  of  them.  I  sha'n't  pose  as  a 
saint  before  him,  but  I  '11  see  that  he  behaves  himself 
decently  and  plays  the  game.  He  '11  go  to  Eton  and 
Balliol,  if  he  has  the  sense.  I  sha'n't  send  him  to  Sunday- 
school  but  he  '11  attend  church  on  Sundays  —  once.  I  '11 
choose  his  tailor  and  put  him  in  the  way  of  things.  He  '11 
learn,  in  fact,  how  to  conduct  himself  as  an  ordinary 
English  gentleman." 

Aylmer  nodded. 

"From  whom?"  he  asked  quietly. 

And  then  Landon  flinched.  The  eyes  which  had 
been  bent  on  his  cousin  with  eagerness,  with  greed 
alight  in  them,  quivered.  He  gave  a  little  intake  of  the 
breath. 

"You  cursed  prig!"  he  breathed  thickly.  "You 
cursed  prig !  " 

Aylmer  smiled. 

"You've  been  out  of  it  too  long,  Landon,"  he  said. 
"For  over  a  year  I  suppose  your  only  familiars  have  been 
Bowery  ruffians  or  Soho  blackmailers.  Did  you  think 
this  could  be  done  ?  Did  you  really  make  yourself  believe 
that  I  was  likely  to  be  an  easy  intermediary  for  such  a 
proposition  ?  And  I  imagine  that  you  forget  that  it  was 
entirely  for  your  wife's  sake  that  your  father-in-law  dealt 
gently  with  you  during  your  married  life.  There  's  no 
need  for  any  restraint  in  that  quarter  now." 

Landon  made  a  gesture  of  contempt. 


ONE    SIDE    OF    A    BARGAIN         163 

"Are  you  making  threats  for  that  old  tame  cat?"  he 
sneered. 

"He  's  got  claws  that  will  reach  out  to  scratch  you  at 
the  world's  end,  my  amiable  cousin.  They  're  made  of 
dollars.  And  they  '11  be  sharpened  with  American  grit. 
Uncommon  unpleasant,  you  '11  find  them." 

Landon  snapped  his  fingers. 

"That  for  his  dollars  and  his  grit!"  he  cried.  "It 's 
no  good  raising  your  bluff  on  me.  I  '11  see  you  every 
time,  see  you  and  take  it!  Leave  it  out;  don't  waste 
time  over  it.  Are  you  going  to  carry  my  message  to  them, 
or  are  you  not?" 

"No,"  said  Aylmer.  "You  knew  perfectly  well  what 
my  answer  was  going  to  be,  but  if  it 's  any  satisfaction 
to  you  to  have  it  —  No ! " 

Landon  leaned  forward. 

"I  guessed  what  your  high  falutin'  ideas  would  an- 
swer," he  said,  "but  I  'm  talking  to  you  —  to  you  about 
yourself."  He  pointed  to  the  well-like  opening  above 
his  head.  "  Do  you  believe  that  you  could  climb  out  of 
there  with  a  broken  collar-bone  ?"  he  asked. 

Aylmer  glanced  quickly  in  the  direction  of  the  extended 
finger. 

"Perhaps  not,"  he  answered. 

Landon  nodded. 

"You  don't  know  what  superhuman  exertions  a  man 
will  contrive  when  he  is  perishing  —  of  thirst,"  he  said. 
"But  even  he  could  n't  move  the  slab  of  stone  which  ten 
men  will  drag  over  that  opening,  if  I  bid  them.  And 
that  will  be  now,  if  you  don't  come  off  your  high  horse. 
This  is  n't  a  healthy  place  for  my  friends  of  the  Beni 
M'Geel.  We  have  to  be  moving  on  immediately." 

A  sudden  quiver  that  perhaps  was  nearly  akin  to  fear 


164  THE    PURSUIT 

pulsed  up  into  Aylmer's  brain,  showed,  indeed,  in  his 
eyes.  The  fever  of  his  wound  was  already  upon  him ;  his 
lips  were  parched,  his  tongue  swollen.  To  be  left  in  that 
pit  —  to  be  sealed  in  —  to  die  ? 

Landon  grinned. 

"Eh?"  he  questioned.  "Are  second  thoughts  best? 
Do  you  begin  to  understand?" 

For  a  moment  or  two  the  stillness  remained  unbroken, 
and  in  Aylmer's  gaze  there  was  little  still  but  wonder  — 
wonder  that  things  like  Landon  should  continue  to  exist 
in  this  prosy  work-a-day  world  of  ours.  Opportunities 
for  unleashing  a  real  lust  of  cruelty  and  evil  come  to  few 
of  us.  We  argue  therefore  that  they  do  not  occur.  A 
common  error.  A  glance  at  the  pages  of  half  a  dozen 
reports  of  philanthropic  societies  will  refute  it,  but  we, 
who  are  not  engaged  in  social  reform,  are  lost  in  amaze- 
ment at  the  monsters  when  we  meet  them.  It  was  in- 
credulity which  was  in  Aylmer's  mind,  and  incredulity 
Landon  imagined  to  be  deliberation. 

"There  are  no  two  ways  to  it!"  he  cried  sharply. 
"Don't  think  that.  It 's  yes  or  no,  now  and  here!" 

Aylmer  made  a  wearily  contemptuous  gesture. 

"Haven't  you  had  your  answer?"    he  said.     "It's 
no;  it  would  be  no  if  I  had  a  thousand  chances  to  say  it 
—  no  —  no  — no ! " 

Landon  rose.  He  looked  down  at  the  man  at  his  feet 
malignantly,  suspiciously.  He  shouted  in  Spanish  to 
some  unseen  listener  outside.  The  end  of  a  rope  was 
dropped  down  through  the  opening.  Methodically 
Landon  knotted  it  about  the  dead  horse's  neck  and 
forelegs. 

"No,  my  friend,"  he  said,  as  if  in  answer  to  some  un- 
spoken question,  "you  are  n't  going  to  exist  by  munching 


ONE    SIDE    OF    A    BARGAIN          165 

this  dead  brute's  flesh  or  sucking  its  blood  till  help 
comes,  if  it  comes  at  all.  You  are  going  to  be  left  in  here 
with  no  more  company  than  your  own  obstinacy,  alone." 

He  shouted  again.  The  rope  tautened.  Landon 
seized  it,  and  with  a  couple  of  energetic  jerks  swung 
himself  up  into  the  sunshine.  And  then  the  carcase  rose, 
dragged  a  little  on  the  floor,  and  in  its  turn  was  hauled 
out  of  sight.  The  cellar  loomed  larger,  gloomier,  emptier 
when  it  was  gone.  There  was  another  dragging  sound. 
Half  the  light  which  filtered  through  the  opening  was 
eclipsed. 

Landon's  voice  rang  hollow  in  the  underground 
echoes. 

"Is  it  no,  still,  you  fool?"  he  snarled. 

There  was  no  answer. 

With  a  curse,  Landon  made  a  significant  motion  of  the 
hand.  The  brawny  Arab  shoulders  were  bent  and  their 
thews  tightened.  The  great  slab  slid  into  its  appointed 
place. 


CHAPTER  XV 
PERINAUD'S  NEWS 

A  FULL  mile  out  in  the  offing  The  Morning  Star 
swung  at  her  anchorage,  dipping  and  swerving 
lazily  over  the  incoming  rush  of  the  Atlantic  swell.  The 
dawn-light  was  soft  behind  the  white  bastions  of  the 
town's  sea-wall;  the  harsh  glare  of  the  fully  risen  sun 
was  yet  to  come.  A  little  boat  put  out  from  the  shore, 
zigzagging  across  the  wide  lake  which  is  bounded  on  the 
south  by  the  headland  and  on  the  north  and  west  by 
the  ring  of  transports,  merchantmen,  and  cuirasses  of  the 
French  Marine.  She  tacked  and  came  about  at  short 
intervals  as  if  those  who  sailed  her  had  need  of  haste,  or 
at  any  rate  of  the  distraction  of  attempting  speed  even  if 
it  could  not  be  attained.  She  sidled,  at  last,  towards  the 
yacht's  companion  ladder. 

Claire  Van  Arlen  rose  from  her  deck  chair  as  the  boat's 
sail  dropped.  She  walked  towards  the  taffrail  and  looked 
down.  She  had  used  her  binoculars  upon  the  little  craft 
ever  since  its  start  from  the  shore,  and  had  finally  recog- 
nized Daoud.  His  companion,  a  uniformed  man,  whose 
long  limbs  seemed  to  occupy  the  whole  of  the  space  be- 
tween stern  and  stem,  had  his  head  swathed  in  bandages. 

Daoud  was  the  first  to  scramble  aboard.  He  stood 
before  her  with  bent  shoulders,  the  picture  of  dejection. 

She  breathed  a  little  quickly. 

"Yes?"  she  asked.  "You  have  brought  news  —  of 
what?" 


"Mademoiselle,  I  am  Sergeant  PerinauJ" 
PAGE  167 


PERINAUD'S    NEWS  167 

The  tall  man  swung  himself  off  the  ladder,  drew  him- 
self upright,  and  saluted. 

"Mademoiselle,  I  am  Sergeant  Perinaud,  attached  to 
the  office  of  the  military  police  here.  I  attended  M. 
Aylmer  during  our  ride  in  pursuit  of  the  man  named 
Landon,  who  was  escaping  with  certain  desert  knaves  of 
the  Beni  M'Geel.  We  overtook  them  —  " 

She  interrupted  with  an  exclamation  of  delight. 

"You  have  the  boy?"  she  cried.  "You  recovered 
him?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"No,  Mademoiselle.  We  were  betrayed  into  an  un- 
fortunate ambush.  We  lost  five  men  out  of  ten  in  addi- 
tion to  further  losses  at  an  earlier  date  in  the  proceedings. 
Monsieur  le  Capitaine  has  been  badly  hurt." 

He  looked  at  her  keenly  with  a  sort  of  speculative  curi- 
osity. And  Daoud  frowned.  For  there  was  no  sign  of 
commiseration  in  her  glance.  She  showed  annoyance, 
almost  disgust. 

"You  had  your  hands  upon  these  men  and  they  es- 
caped you?"  she  cried. 

"  We  were  within  a  very  little  of  arresting  them,  Made- 
moiselle, but  by  an  Arab  trick  in  which  I  regret  to  say 
they  showed  more  intelligence  than  we  were  capable  of 
divining,  they  defeated  us.  I  am  directed  by  Major 
d'Hubert  to  report  to  you  fully  on  the  incident  if  you 
desire  it." 

She  made  a  vehement  gesture. 

"If!"  she  cried.     "If!" 

With  an  accession  of  woodenness  in  his  demeanor,  the 
sergeant  drew  himself  up  yet  more  stiffly,  repeated  his 
salute,  and  in  a  few  precise  words  gave  the  story  of  the 
pursuit.  But,  as  he  described  Aylmer's  fall,  it  was  to  be 


i68  THE    PURSUIT 

noted  that  his  voice  and  bearing  relaxed.  A  tinge  of  the 
dramatic  colored  his  level  tones.  His  eyes  —  his  hands 
were  called  upon  to  emphasize  the  description  of  the 
headlong  plunge  into  the  black  trap  of  the  silo  —  indi- 
cated the  feelings  of  an  onlooker  rather  than  a  mere  re- 
porter, as  he  described  the  sealing  of  the  prison  mouth. 
And  as  she  listened,  she  gave  a  little  gasp.  In  the 
background  Daoud  flung  his  colleague  a  little  nod  of 
approval. 

"And  then?"   she  asked  breathlessly.    "And  then?" 

"I  was  unhorsed,  Mademoiselle,  and  somewhat 
beaten  about  the  head,  as  is  evident.  I  found  shelter  in 
a  neighboring  patch  of  mallow,  where,  after  a  season,  I 
was  joined  by  my  friend  here.  The  Beni  M'Geel  having 
departed,  we  watched  their  route  as  a  matter  of  precau- 
tion for  a  mile  or  two,  and  then  returned.  We  were  un- 
able to  deal  with  the  slab  upon  the  cellar  mouth." 

This  time  his  voice  had  been  level  enough,  but  he 
made  his  pause  effective. 

She  gasped  again. 

"You  left  him  there?" 

He  smiled. 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle,  but  not  without  rendering  him 
assistance.  Not  being  able  to  remove  the  stone,  we 
merely  dug  another  entrance.  The  outer  earth  was  hard 
and  baked,  but  after  pecking  off  a  few  inches  with  our 
knives  we  fetched  water  from  the  river  and  easily  softened 
it.  We  fashioned  a  couple  of  wooden  shovels.  Thus 
we  dug  down  into  the  prison  in  an  hour  or  two.  We 
found  the  captain  delirious." 

"Yes?"  she  said  again,  eagerly.  "You  brought  him 
away?" 

"  Mademoiselle  forgets  that  we  had  no  horses.    Daoud 


PERINAUD'S    NEWS  169 

remained  with  him.  I  walked  to  our  nearest  outpost  — 
at  Ain  Djemma  —  to  fetch  assistance." 

His  tones  were  absolutely  matter  of  fact,  but  some 
instinct  of  comprehension  made  her  look  at  him  yet 
more  keenly  and  thus  note  the  weariness  which  his  voice 
could  hide,  but  not  his  drawn  features. 

"You  walked,  how  far?"  she  questioned. 

"I  have  no  exact  idea,  Mademoiselle.  For  some 
hours.  I  could  not  obtain  a  surgeon ;  there  was  but  one 
at  the  post  and  his  hands  were  full.  An  orderly  of  the 
ambulance  came  with  me  with  a  cacolet  and  a  small  es- 
cort of  Chasseurs.  But  we  have  not  dared  to  remove 
the  captain,  whose  fever  has  reached  a  serious  height. 
The  orderly  advised  that  I  should  come  direct  to  the  town 
and  obtain  either  medical  help,  or,  if  possible,  one  of  the 
Dames  de  la  Croix  Rouge.  But  there  is  an  epidemic  of 
fever  at  the  hospital  and  an  influx  of  wounded  from  the 
Tirailleurs'  foray  of  four  days  back.  Neither  surgeon 
nor  nurse  can  be  spared  for  one  man." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence  again.  Perinaud 
looked  at  her  with  a  sort  of  questioning  apathy,  with  the 
detached  air  of  one  having  done  his  duty  and  awaiting 
the  decrees  of  fate.  But  Daoud  moved  restlessly,  and 
then  broke  into  speech,  as  if  some  irresistible  impulse 
moved  him. 

"I  think  my  master  is  likely  to  die,  Mademoiselle," 
he  said. 

And  then  he,  too,  waited,  in  a  sort  of  queer,  hushed 
expectancy,  as  if  his  words  must  result  in  some  definite 
action. 

"We  have  medical  comforts  on  board,"  she  said 
quickly.  "We  will  put  anything  we  possess  at  Captain 
Aylmer's  service." 


iyo  THE    PURSUIT 

Perinaud  nodded  again  solemnly. 

"The  dislocated  shoulder  has  been  dealt  with,  Made- 
moiselle, and  the  broken  bone  set.  The  orderly,  also, 
has  quinine  for  the  fever,  which  is  high.  We  might  be 
doing  right,  perhaps,  in  taking  back  any  other  remedies 
which  your  intelligence  can  suggest." 

His  tone  was  meditative  and  judicial,  and  intimated 
quite  distinctly  that  this  was  a  side  issue  and  not  the 
objective  of  his  present  mission.  He  continued  to  stare 
at  her  steadily,  without  any  tinge  of  offence,  but  with  a 
questioning  directness  which  spoke  volumes.  "  I  am 
waiting/'  it  seemed  to  say.  "  I  have  given  you  your  cue. 
Speak  your  part." 

She  looked  from  him  to  the  Moor,  read  the  same  mes- 
sage in  the  latter's  air  of  anticipation,  and  then  spoke, 
desperately. 

"What  is  it?"  she  demanded.  "You  want  —  some- 
thing?" 

The  man  looked  not  exactly  embarrassed  but  discon- 
certed, surprised.  His  eyebrows  rose  a  fraction,  he 
flashed  a  swiftly  inquiring  glance  at  the  Moor.  The 
other  nodded. 

"The  captain's  fever  and  delirium  is  very  great, 
Mademoiselle,"  he  said  slowly.  "We  thought—  He 
hesitated.  "The  captain,  in  his  wanderings,  used  your 
name  frequently." 

She  understood  in  a  moment.  Aylmer,  in  his  fevered 
unconsciousness,  had  —  what  had  he  done  ?  Placed 
himself,  and  her,  in  a  false  position  ?  These  stolid,  un- 
imaginative men,  at  any  rate,  regarded  her  as  his  fiancee ! 
She  was  not  eager,  vehement,  to  rush  to  her  lover's  side ! 
No  wonder  they  showed  astonishment. 

She  stood  silent,  perturbed,  at  a  loss.     And  the  two 


PERINAUD'S    NEWS  171 

impassive  faces  watched  her.  And  again  a  tiny  spasm 
of  fear  throbbed  through  her.  Fate  was  fighting  for  this 
man,  it  seemed.  Helpless,  unconscious,  cast  away  in 
this  rat-hole  in  the  wilderness,  his  plight  worked  for  him 
where  his  own  powers  could  not.  His  very  helplessness 
appealed  to  her.  Could  she  refuse  the  duty  which  was 
being  plainly  forced  upon  her  by  the  mute  message  of 
those  four  watching  eyes?  Her  imagination  began  to 
work.  She  saw  a  gloomy  pit,  a  white  face  wasted  with 
fever,  heard  a  voice  which,  unconsciously,  perhaps,  but 
still  appealingly,  called  upon  her  name.  And  this  was 
the  debonair  soldier  who  had  ridden  out  three  days  be- 
fore to  do  —  what  ?  Her  bidding,  no  less.  A  flush  rose 
to  her  brow. 

"I  have  not  a  nurse's  training,"  she  assured 
Perinaud  quietly,  "but  I  will  come  with  you,  if  you 
will  wait." 

The  sergeant  saluted. 

"At  Mademoiselle's  service,"  he  said  placidly,  and 
then  turned  towards  his  colleague  and  sighed,  a  deep 
suspiration  eloquent  of  relief. 

At  the  door  of  the  saloon  she  hesitated.  She  could  see 
her  father  at  his  desk,  bent  over  his  papers,  writing 
methodically.  A  sudden  irritated  sense  of  shyness  fell 
upon  her.  Surely  he,  too,  could  not  misunderstand. 

He  looked  round  at  her  entrance.  Without  preamble 
she  repeated  the  sergeant's  report,  speaking  in  level, 
matter  of  fact  tones.  She  announced  her  decision  to  re- 
turn with  Perinaud  and  his  escort. 

Her  father's  first  comment  was  no  more  than  his  usual 
deferential  little  nod.  But  there  was  a  slightly  strained 
silence  between  them  as  she  finished  speaking  —  a 
silence  which  gave  him  time  for  reflection. 


172  THE    PURSUIT 

"You  think  your  presence  necessary,  likely  to  benefit 
him?"  he  said  questioningly. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"He  has  been  wounded  in  our  service,"  she  said. 
"These  men  seem  to  expect  much  of  my  nursing  —  I 
who  have  never  nursed.  I  hardly  see  a  way  to  refuse 
graciously." 

Again  her  father  made  his  little  obeisance  of  assent. 

"I  could  charge  myself  with  an  explanation,"  he  said 
gravely.  "There  is  no  reason  for  you  to  go  against  your 
wishes.  I  fear  there  is  little  prospect  of  our  being  of  real 
help." 

Then  a  sudden  throb  of  protest  surged  up  in  her.  The 
vision  of  the  dark  cellar  and  of  the  fevered  lips  which 
called  constantly  upon  her  name  became  vivid,  more 
vivid  than  before.  To  her  own  amazement  she  realized 
that  she  wanted  to  go,  that  the  thought  of  those  two 
horsemen  riding  out  into  the  wild  with  their  message  of 
repulse  had  become  abhorrent  to  her.  She  felt  suddenly 
pitying,  protective.  The  feminine,  indeed,  the  maternal, 
instinct  gripped  her. 

The  blood  rose  to  her  cheeks. 

"I  should  prefer  to  go,"  she  said  quietly. 

Van  Arlen  made  a  little  gesture  of  finality. 

"The  sooner,  then,  the  better,"  he  said,  and  moved 
briskly  towards  his  own  cabin,  summoning  the  steward 
to  his  councils  as  he  went. 

The  dusk  was  falling  over  them  with  grateful  coolness 
as,  eight  hours  later,  they  rode  over  the  brink  of  the  gorge 
and  saw  below  them  the  black  spectral  shape  of  camel's- 
hair  tents  and  the  white  dwellings  of  the  duar.  A  lantern 
newly  lit  twinkled  a  welcome.  A  stallion  neighed  a 
greeting  from  his  pickets  as  he  heard  the  sound  of  ad- 


PERINAUD'S    NEWS  173 

vancing  hoofs,  and  a  couple  of  men  in  white  uniform 
came  to  the  door  of  a  white-domed  hovel  and  stood 
awaiting  them. 

One,  a  dapper,  black-moustached  little  man  with  the 
Geneva  Cross  upon  his  sleeve,  hastened  to  help  Miss 
Van  Arlen  to  alight. 

"Monsieur  sleeps,  Mademoiselle,"  he  informed  her, 
as  she  reached  the  ground.  "It  is  a  matter  of  tempera- 
tures —  and  the  subsequent  weakness.  Mademoiselle 
may  have  good  hope  that  matters  will  yet  go  well." 

His  smile  was  reassuring  and,  in  spite  of  his  obvious 
youth,  almost  paternal.  At  the  tent  door  he  turned  and 
laid  his  finger  upon  his  lips.  There  must  be  no  feminine 
want  of  self-restraint,  he  implied.  The  sight  of  one  dear 
to  her  in  his  hour  of  helplessness  must  not  leave  her  un- 
strung. She  must  be  brave. 

She  followed  with  her  father  into  the  shadows  within. 

He  lay  with  his  arms  outflung.  A  light  coverlet  was 
over  him,  but  the  damp  of  perspiration  gleamed  upon 
his  forehead  and  neck.  He  moved  restlessly,  breathing 
with  a  panting  sound. 

"We  poise  much  on  Monsieur's  recognition  of  Made- 
moiselle when  he  wakes,"  explained  the  orderly,  and 
offered  a  smirk  of  intelligent  sympathy  to  Mademoiselle's 
father. 

She  looked  down,  and  a  strange  sense  of  unreality  in  the 
situation  seized  her.  The  white,  fever-stricken  face  on 
the  pillow  seemed  a  spectre  —  a  caricature  of  something 
familiar.  A  queer  sense  of  anger,  as  if  some  well-liked 
possession  had  been  meddled  with  and  defaced  by  out- 
siders, rose  in  her  heart.  An  instinct  which  she  could 
not  explain  set  her  kneeling  beside  the  pallet  bed,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  its  occupant. 


174  THE    PURSUIT 

Wearily,  drowsily,  Aylmer  opened  his  eyes. 

And  then  his  smile  dawned,  slowly,  incredulously,  till 
the  glory  of  assurance  had  become  convincing.  He  pro- 
nounced her  name. 

In  the  background,  emotional  thrills  travelled  across 
the  orderly's  foolishly  sentimental  countenance.  He 
took  mental  notes  of  a  situation  which  bulked  largely 
and  enticingly  in  a  letter  to  an  apple-cheeked  damsel  in 
far-away  Provence  a  few  days  later.  "Such  are  the  re- 
wards of  the  soldier,  my  soul,"  he  explained.  "Love? 
Its  cords  are  strong  to  drag  its  devotees  even  across  this 
waste  wilderness  of  Africa!"  Wherein  he  did  one  of 
the  most  fertile  lands  upon  the  habitable  globe  a  vile  in- 
justice. But  your  true  lover  is  invariably  a  poet  and 
girdled  with  merely  a  poet's  limitations,  while  the 
apple-cheeked  demoiselle's  romantic  sensibilities  were 
quickened  to  the  point  of  tears. 

Mr.  Van  Arlen  moved  forward  to  his  daughter's  side 
with  a  suddenly  instinctive  motion.  And  she  understood 
it.  The  embarrassment  of  the  situation  had  at  once 
become  plain  to  him;  his  desire  was  to  clear  it,  he  was 
framing  words  —  courteous,  no  doubt,  but  without  any 
trace  of  sentiment  —  to  assist  her  in  this.  He  would  do 
it  admirably;  his  tact  was  beyond  question. 

And  she? 

Again  she  felt  a  sudden  thrill  of  protest.  No,  how 
could  they  deal  coldly  with  this  man,  now?  It  would 
be  less  than  womanly  —  would  it  even  be  common  fair 
play?  He  was  down.  Surely  till  he  was  up  again,  the 
indomitable  soldier  she  knew  and  feared,  honor  forbade 
their  striking  even  at  his  self-assurance. 

Her  hand  was  laid  upon  her  father's  arm,  pressing  it  in 
gentle  remonstrance.  Then  she  leaned  towards  the  bed. 


PERINAUD'S    NEWS  175 

"  We  have  come  to  thank  you,"  she  said  quietly.  "  You 
have  suffered  much  for  us,  too  much." 

His  smile  was  fading  while  she  spoke. 

"I  —  I  failed,"  he  muttered.  "I  had  my  hands  upon 
him,  and  failed." 

"  Ah,  but  you  must  n't  think  us  unjust,  always,"  she 
answered.  "  What  you  intended  —  that  is  what  we  look 
at.  You  have  worked  for  us  ceaselessly.  And  now  you 
suffer  for  us.  You  must  accept  our  gratitude  for  that." 

He  shook  his  head  slowly,  and  his  gaze  wandered  past 
her  to  Van  Arlen's  face. 

"It  is  a  check,"  he  said  slowly,  "  but  only  a  check.  He 
is  not  going  to  win."  His  eyes  grew  suddenly  clear  and 
his  lips  grim.  "  I  shall  follow  him  to  the  end,"  he  said. 

The  orderly  moved  forward  and  rearranged  the  cover- 
let. He  looked  significantly  at  a  flush  which  had  risen 
to  Aylmer's  cheek. 

"It  is  better  that  Monsieur  should  not  excite  himself," 
he  explained  amiably.  "Mademoiselle  is  here;  matters 
are  going  well.  Monsieur  will  convalesce  all  the  quicker 
if  he  avoids  emotion." 

Aylmer  pushed  at  the  rearranged  coverlet  with  a  ges- 
ture of  irritation.  He  drew  himself  into  a  sitting  posture. 

"Don't  think  that  I  have  flung  up  the  sponge!"  he 
cried.  "Before,  before  this  weakness  came  over  me  I 
arranged  for  the  future.  Daoud  has  seen  to  that;  he 
has  put  matters  in  train.  Landon  will  be  watched  —  if 
necessary,  followed.  And  when  I  am  up  again  —  "he 
smiled  savagely  —  "  when  I  take  the  trail  for  the  second 
time,  he  will  pay  in  full,  as  I  promised  he  should." 

And  his  voice  rang  firm  as  he  caught  sight  of  the 
Moor  silhouetted  against  the  evening  light  at  the  tent 
door. 


176  THE    PURSUIT 

"That  is  so?"  he  demanded.  "You  have  seen  to  this 
among  your  friends  ?" 

Daoud  came  forward  a  couple  of  respectful  paces. 

"Be  assured,  Sidi,"  he  said,  "that  this  man  will  not 
move  a  yard  but  I  shall  have  due  knowledge  of  it,  in 
time.  He  cannot  leave  North  Africa,  and  I  be  ignorant 
of  it.  Our  hands  may  lag,  but  they  will  grip  him  at  the 
last." 

Aylmer  gave  a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction  and  lay  back. 
And  his  eyes  rose  to  Van  Arlen's  half  appealingly,  half 
defiantly. 

"  You  see  ?"  he  said.  "  At  any  rate,  I  am  doing  —  my 
best." 

The  other  bowed,  but  not  his  automatic,  courteous 
little  bow  with  which  he  punctuated  his  everyday  con- 
versation. There  was  a  moisture  in  his  eyes.  He  leaned 
forward  and  took  the  hand  which  moved  restlessly  across 
the  coverlet. 

"  If  I  had  had  a  son,"  he  said,  "  he  could  have  done  no 
more.  Take  my  thanks,  Captain  Aylmer,  for  all  that 
you  are  and  have  been;  take  them  in  full." 

Aylmer  gave  a  little  nod  of  content. 

"I  '11  take  them,"  he  smiled,  "for.  what  I  have  been  to 
you,  and  that  is  less  than  nothing.  'But  for  what  I  am 
going  to  be  —  I  '11  earn  them  for  that,  earn  them  1" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AT  MELILLA 

ABOUT  the  aspect  of  the  port  of  Melilla  there  is  only 
one  thing  wholly  admirable.  That  is  the  curving 
bay  which  sweeps  eastward  from  the  town  towards  the 
frontier  blockhouse.  This  last  is  an  eyesore;  the  un- 
tethered  camels  which  pasture  in  herds  beside  it  have 
little  attractiveness;  the  wide  plateau  which  stretches  up 
to  the  distant  hills  is  desolate  and  often  arid.  But  the 
bay  is  a  perpetual  delight.  Curved  like  a  scimitar,  it 
shines  in  the  sunlight  as  a  tempered  blade  shines,  ringed 
by  white  tresses  of  foam,  banked  by  its  parapets  of 
sand. 

Two  men  sat  in  the  shadow  cast  by  a  stranded  boat 
and  watched  half  a  dozen  Moors  and  Spaniards  who  bent 
their  shoulders  and  swelled  out  their  muscles  to  haul  at 
a  couple  of  ropes.  The  ropes  slanted  down  to  and  were 
lost  in  the  rush  of  the  breakers.  Those  who  dragged 
at  them  panted,  the  perspiration  raining  off  their  faces. 
The  men  who  sat  and  watched  seemed  to  find  a  whet  to 
the  enjoyment  of  their  siesta  in  reviewing  so  much  en- 
ergy. One  of  them  sighed  —  a  contented  little  sigh, 
drew  a  cigarette  from  the  breast  of  his  djelab,  lit  it,  and 
began  to  smoke  with  stolid  satisfaction. 

A  child  who  was  sitting  between  the  two  rose  suddenly 
and  ran  down  the  sand.  The  men  at  the  ropes  had  come 
to  a  halt.  They  stood  gasping,  wiping  their  faces.  Im- 
pulsively the  child  laid  his  little  hands  upon  the  rope  and 

12 


178  THE    PURSUIT 

stood  in  an  attitude  of  tension,  ready  to  use  his  tiny 
strength  when  operations  were  resumed.  The  men 
welcomed  him  with  a  glance  of  good-humored  toleration. 

The  cigarette  smoker  laughed. 

"The  restlessness  of  youth,  Sidi.  Repose?  They 
have  no  knowledge  of  the  meaning  of  the  word,  these 
children.  Now  I  ?  The  last  three  weeks  have  brimmed 
with  such  toil  that  I  could  sit  here  and  contentedly  drowse 
a  week,  a  month,  nay,  a  whole  year,  if  Allah  willed." 

The  other  nodded  and  stretched  his  limbs.  The 
movement  expressed  the  lethargy  which  is  earned  by 
fatigue. 

"To-night  we  shall  eat  real  food,"  he  murmured. 
"We  shall  sleep  in  beds  of  sorts.  We  can  even  be  amused, 
if  we  find  the  cafes  chaniants  which  attract  these  poor 
devils  of  Andalusian  conscripts  amusing.  It 's  all  a  mat- 
ter of  contrasts  —  life.  After  the  experiences  we  have 
endured  among  our  friends  the  M'Geel,  this  doghole 
appears  alluring.  This ! " 

He  waved  his  hand  with  a  significant  gesture  towards 
the  town,  in  which  the  mean  houses  appear  to  hustle  the 
citadel  and  the  citadel  the  houses,  without  either  the  one 
or  the  other  gaining  advantage. . 

The  smoker  blew  out  a  cloud  and  spat  towards  the 
flagstaff  which  dominates  the  sea  bastion. 

"May  Allah  relegate  it  and  its  inhabitants  shortly  to 
the  Abyss!"  he  aspired  devoutly.  "Is  it  permitted  to 
ask  how  long,  Sidi,  you  purpose  using  its  hospitalities?" 

"It  is  always  permitted  to  ask,  my  friend.  The  an- 
swer is  another  matter.  Bluntly,  till  the  Gibraltar  boat 
arrives." 

The  other  lifted  his  shoulders  into  a  tiny  shrug. 

"  For  the  Sidi  Jan  this  is  a  place  not  to  be  recommended. 


AT    MELILLA  179 

There  is  a  smell,  do  you  notice,  especially  at  night  — 
murk  which  rises  from  the  fort  ditch.  And  the  vermin ! 
His  little  skin  is  pitted  with  them !" 

Landon  moved  irritably.  He  looked  at  his  son.  The 
men  at  the  ropes  were  hauling  again  by  now,  and  the 
small  back  was  bent  and  the  little  arms  tautened  with 
efforts  to  emulate  them.  The  first  few  meshes  of  a  laden 
net  appeared  above  the  surface  of  the  breakers. 

Little  John  gave  a  squeal  of  delight,  promptly  deserted 
the  toilers,  and  capered  joyously  down  the  beach.  Scales 
began  to  shine  silvern  in  the  sun  as  the  tangle  of  the  nets 
rose  slowly,  but  higher  and  yet  higher.  His  voice  rose 
in  shrill  outcry;  he  clapped  his  hands. 

As  the  great  bag  of  the  net  was  hauled  little  by  little 
up  the  shelving  beach,  he  flung  himself  into  the  hurtle 
round  the  wriggling  catch.  The  mackerel  were  there  in 
their  hundreds  —  in  their  thousands.  He  tripped  and 
fell  into  the  center  of  the  heap  of  fishes,  wriggling  as  they 
wriggled,  and  to  little  more  purpose. 

Muhammed  rose,  paced  slowly  forward,  and  plucked 
him  into  safety.  But  the  child  met  his  good  offices  with 
scorn. 

"I  wish  to  help;  I  wish  to  gather  them  up!"  he  cried 
petulantly.  "I  am  going  to  be  a  fisherman.  I  shall  take 
the  yacht  to  the  fishing  grounds  and  catch  millions  — 
millions!" 

"There  must  be  a  catching  of  a  yacht  first,"  said 
Muhammed,  amiably.  "  Where  wilt  thou  obtain  it,  little 
lord?" 

Little  John  Aylmer  turned  puzzled  eyes  up  to  his 
questioner.  Then  he  wheeled  and  pointed  eastward 
towards  the  anchorage  below  the  headland. 

"It  is  there!"    he  explained.     "Did  he,"  he  pointed 


i8o  THE    PURSUIT 

towards  his  father,  who  still  lay  comfortably  reclined  in 
the  shadow  of  the  boat,  "not  send  for  it?" 

Muhammed's  eyes  followed  the  direction  of  the  child's 
hand.  He  stared,  gave  a  sudden  startled  exclamation, 
and  stared  again,  incredulously.  The  next  moment  he 
was  back  at  his  employer's  side,  twitching  excitedly  at 
the  folds  of  his  bournous. 

"Sidi  —  Sidi !"  he  exclaimed.  "While  we  drowse  we 
are  betrayed.  Look !  Look ! " 

Landon  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  saw  what  the  tim- 
bers of  the  shadowing  boat  had  hidden  before.  A  white 
vessel,  drifting  slowly  in  from  the  headland  abreast  the 
market  quay.  As  he  watched,  a  white  spout  of  foam  and 
the  rattle  of  the  hawse-pipes  told  that  the  anchor  had  been 
dropped. 

She  rounded  to,  the  American  flag  waving  lazily  from 
her  stern,  the  burgee  of  the  New  York  Yacht  Club  from 
her  peak.  They  could  not  read  her  name  across  two 
miles  of  water,  but  they  did  not  need  to.  It  was  The 
Morning  Star. 

Landon  went  white  beneath  his  tan.     He  swore. 

"We  have  been  here  three  days  —  three  days,  by  God ! 
Not  a  soul  in  the  place  knows  me  or  knows  that  I  am  not 
what  I  profess  to  be  —  a  Moor  from  El  Dibh.    And  yet 
-  this !     It  can't  be   a   coincidence.     They   know  - 
somehow!" 

He  looked  at  Muhammed  in  sudden  fierce  suspicion. 

"That  infernal  Jew  of  yours  has  sold  us!"  he 
cried. 

The  Moor  made  a  tolerant  gesture,  the  sort  of  motion  a 
nurse  offers  a  wilful  child. 

"Sidi!  You  do  not  understand.  A  Jew  to  sell  me! 
Not  this  side  of  the  Mediterranean.  It  means  death! 


AT    MELILLA  181 

Yakoob  knows  it ;  it  is  knowledge  that  he  has  sucked  in 
with  his  mother's  milk,  chewed  with  his  daily  bread,  seen 
written  in  letters  of  blood  in  a  score  of  towns  between 
this  and  Mequinez.  No,  Yakoob  Ihudi  is  not  in  this 
business.  Some  other  is  the  instrument  of  —  fate!" 

He  stooped,  lifted  little  John  carefully  in  his  arms, 
and  nodded  towards  the  town  gate. 

"We  must  use  haste,  Sidi,"  he  said  calmly,  avoiding 
the  protests  the  child  was  making  with  his  closed  fists. 
"Show  wisdom,  little  lord.  Why  do  you  not  wish  to  re- 
turn to  the  town,  wherein  are  special  delights  for  the  eye 
in  the  booths  of  the  market-place?" 

Landon  hesitated.  Then  he  joined  the  Moor,  running. 
And  the  other  was  covering  the  ground  with  huge  strides 
which  forced  his  companion  to  continue  the  run  to  keep 
pace  with  him.  He  panted  out  a  question. 

"My  plan,  Sidi  ?"  returned  the  Moor.  "It  lies  in  the 
hands  of  Allah.  Here  when  inquiry  begins  to  be  made, 
we  are  the  mark  of  a  hundred  eyes.  In  Yakoob's  hovel 
a  means  of  escape  may  be  found." 

The  two  reached  the  dusty  road  which  leads  from  the 
drill  ground,  followed  it  into  the  shadows  of  the  town  gate, 
mounted  the  steep  on  which  the  citadel  stands,  and  gained 
a  row  of  squalid  wooden  hovels  which  fringed  the  ram- 
part above  the  fort  ditch.  Into  one  of  these  they  dis- 
appeared. 

A  man  looked  up  as  they  entered,  a  dark-skinned,- 
low-browed  Israelite,  who  greeted  them  with  an  obse- 
quiously furtive  air.  He  sat  cross-legged  upon  a  turned- 
up  chest  and  plied  his  needle  upon  an  exceedingly  ragged 
pair  of  trousers.  A  heap  of  other  garments  lay  at  his 
elbow.  His  trade  was  evidently  that  of  mending  tailor. 

"  This  deposit  for  contraband  of  which  you  spoke  last 


i82  THE    PURSUIT 

night?"  asked  Muhammed,  without  preamble.  "Where 
is  it?" 

The  look  of  furtive  expectancy  in  the  tailor's  eyes  be- 
came active  alarm. 

"What  do  you  fear?"  he  asked  shrilly.  "A  search? 
There  are  fifteen  thousand  cartridges  awaiting  transport." 

"The  search  will  not  be  for  those,  but  for  these,"  said 
the  Moor,  pointing  to  Landon  and  his  son.  "And  there 
is  as  great  a  ruin  attached  to  the  finding  of  the  one  as  the 
other.  You  must  prevent  that." 

The  Jew  rose  quickly  and  barred  the  door.  WTith 
alert  movements  he  gathered  up  the  smoking  ashes  from 
the  hearth  and  emptied  them  into  a  shallow  pan.  He 
covered  his  hand  with  a  cloth,  seized  the  pothook  which 
hung  from  the  entrance  of  the  chimney,  and  moved  it 
laboriously  aside.  As  he  did  so  the  hearthstone  moved 
slowly  downwards  as  if  on  a  hinge.  A  flight  of  steps  led 
into  the  darkness. 

Muhammed  indicated  the  opening  with  a  shrug. 

"The  best  we  can  do,  Sidi,"  he  deprecated.  "Till 
matters  adjust  themselves  you  must  keep  company  with 
Yakoob's  contraband." 

Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Air?"  he  questioned  laconically.  "It  is  supplied  — 
how?" 

Muhammed  passed  on  the  question.  The  Jew  pointed 
to  the  bosom  of  his  bournous,  which  rose  and  fell  in  the 
draught  which  rose  from  below. 

"There  are  innumerable  crevices  which  open  through 
the  wall  of  the  fort  ditch,"  he  said.  "For  this  reason 
the  Sidi  must  not  use  a  light  —  at  night." 

Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders  pessimistically,  and 
took  his  son  by  the  hand.  "Come,  my  boy,"  he  said. 


AT    MELILLA  183 

"We  are  going  to  play  that  childhood's  favorite  and 
most  successful  comedy  —  the  Robbers  in  the  Cave. 
You  and  I  are  to  be  the  leaders  of  the  gang." 

Little  John  peered  doubtfully  into  the  darkness. 

"And  Muhammed?"  he  asked,  looking  at  the  Moor 
with  expectant,  trusting  eyes. 

There  was  a  queer  intensity  in  the  Moor's  glance  as 
he  bent  over  the  small  figure  hesitating  at  the  head  of 
the  steps.  His  smile  was  kindly  and  reassuring. 

"I  am  the  robber  who  goes  abroad,  prowling  to  find 
wicked  rich  men  who  deserve  robbing,"  he  said.  "I 
return  shortly,  little  lord.  Have  no  fear." 

Little  John  nodded  gravely  and  took  his  father's 
hand.  The  two  paced  solemnly  down  into  the  cellar. 
The  hearthstone  was  replaced,  the  cinders  set  smoking 
upon  it  again.  With  a  sigh  Yakoob  took  up  another 
deplorable  pair  of  trousers  and  bit  off  a  length  of  thread. 
Muhammed  passed  out  into  the  street. 

Five  minutes  later  he  stood  on  the  quayside,  watch- 
ing the  motor  launch  which  slid  out  of  the  shadow  cast 
on  the  still  waters  by  The  Morning  Star. 

Three  figures  sat  upon  the  cushions  at  the  stern,  and 
Muhammed,  as  he  watched  them  from  under  the  hood 
of  his  haik,  examined  one  of  them  with  startled  intensity. 
Miss  Van  Arlen  he  recognized.  Aylmer,  whose  face 
was  partially  disguised  by  bandages,  he  debated  over 
for  a  moment.  But  this  third?  This  gray-clad  elder? 
This  was  not  the  owner  of  The  Morning  Star.  It  was  — 
whom? 

Surprise  as  much  as  relief  erased  the  wrinkles  from 
the  watcher's  face  as  the  unknown  stepped  ashore, 
turned  to  assist  his  companion,  and  disclosed  the  fea- 
tures of  the  Moor's  former  employer,  Mr.  Miller. 


184  THE    PURSUIT 

Muhammed  emphasized  his  amazement  with  an 
oath.  "  One  God ! "  he  swore,  and  for  a  moment  hesi- 
tated. Then,  as  the  gray-clad  man  strolled  past  him, 
talking,  the  Moor  pushed  back  the  haik  which  shadowed 
his  face  and  met  the  other's  glance  squarely. 

Mr.  Miller  made  no  sign. 

Muhammed  dropped  back  into  the  shadow  of  the 
quayside  booths,  and  sauntered  carelessly  up  the  citadel 
ramp.  The  three  preceded  him.  At  the  top  of  the  ramp 
a  causeway  leads  to  the  drawbridge  which  spans  the 
fort  ditch.  Mr.  Miller  had  apparently  eyes  for  nothing 
but  his  fair  companion.  He  failed  to  notice,  at  any  rate, 
the  dilapidated  state  of  the  iron  rails  which  fence  the 
bridge.  The  dust  cloak  he  was  carrying  caught  in  a 
jagged  piece  of  iron  and  was  most  unfortunately  torn. 
A  sudden  appreciative  gleam  burned  in  Muhammed's 
eyes  as  he  noted  the  incident.  The  haik  hood  concealed 
a  smile. 

He  could  not  hear,  but  he  could  see  the  expressive 
pantomime  which  was  accompanying  Mr.  Miller's 
apologies.  He  motioned  his  companions  forward  towards 
the  bridge  and  the  dark  entrance  through  the  casemate 
into  the  citadel.  As  for  himself,  his  finger  explained, 
he  would  return  to  the  town  and  get  the  damage  re- 
paired. After  a  minute's  discussion,  matters  followed 
the  course  indicated.  Aylmer  and  Miss  Van  Arlen 
passed  on  —  to  seek  the  government  offices,  as  Mu- 
hammed told  himself,  to  interview  the  head,  no  doubt, 
of  the  military  police. 

The  Moor  slid  forward  deferentially  as  the  gray 
figure  turned. 

"I  can  direct  the  Sidi  to  a  sastre  of  incredible  skill," 
he  explained.  "The  Sidi  has  no  need  to  return  to  the 


AT    MELILLA  185 

town  if  he  desires  such  an  one.  He  is  to  be  found  within 
a  hundred  paces,  if  the  Sidi  so  will." 

Mr.  Miller  made  an  affable  gesture  of  acquiescence. 

"You  are  certainly  quick  to  seize  a  business  oppor- 
tunity, my  friend,"  he  said  amiably.  "  Lead  on." 

Two  minutes  later  the  two  stood  behind  Yakoob's 
well-barred  door,  and  the  hearthstone  had  been  raised. 
Landon  offered  his  visitor  a  tribute  of  surprise  tinged 
with  humor. 

"I  understood,  my  friend,"  he  said,  as  he  took  the 
other's  hand,  "that  the  mail  came  in  from  Gibraltar 
to-morrow.  For  you,  it  seems,  the  age  of  miracles  is 
not  past?" 

"I  hope  I  am  an  alert  servant  of  opportunity,"  said 
Miller.  "I  got  your  letter  yesterday  morning." 

"That  does  not  entirely  explain  your  presence  in 
Melilla  to-day." 

Miller  nodded. 

"Your  father-in-law  has  been  anchored  in  Gibraltar 
Bay  for  the  last  fortnight.  He  has  had  information  of 
your  movements,  my  friend  —  good  information,  and 
I  have  not  been  able  to  determine  the  source  of  it.  I 
made  it  my  business  to  get  introduced  to  him  at  the 
house  of  mutual  friends.  A  humble  client  of  mine, 
a  ship's  chandler,  acquainted  me  with  the  fact  that 
The  Morning  Star's  anchor  and  steam  were  being  raised, 
and  with  the  name  of  her  port  of  destination.  A  couple 
of  good  boatmen  and  a  little  tact  did  the  rest.  I  told 
Mr.  Van  Arlen  that  I  had  an  urgent  business  necessity 
to  visit  these  possessions  of  the  King  of  Spain.  Result 
—  a  warm  invitation  to  anticipate  the  mail  boat  by  a 
day." 

"Excellent!"   commended  Landon.    "And  the  busi- 


186  THE    PURSUIT 

ness  necessity?    You  have  brought  the  means  of  reliev- 
ing it?" 

Mr.  Miller  dilated  his  nostrils.  Perhaps  the  reek  of 
the  fort  ditch  reached  him.  Very  carefully  and  method- 
ically he  lit  a  cigarette. 

"Yes  —  and  no,"  he  answered  at  last,  and  with  de- 
liberation. "I  have  money  with  me,  my  dear  Lord 
Landon.  But  my  employers  give  me  no  commission  to 
apply  it  to  —  charity." 

Landon's  eyes  grew  suddenly  ominous. 

"The  price  of  that  book  was  to  be  five  hundred 
pounds,"  he  said.  "I  have  received  one  hundred  so 
far." 

Miller  made  a  gesture  of  assent. 

"You  obtained  for  me  a  certain  book.  Subsequent 
investigations  proved  it  to  be  a  mere  dummy  —  a  book 
made,  in  fact,  to  be  stolen.  You  remain  in  my  debt  to 
the  extent  of  that  score  of  five-pound  notes  which  I 
gave  you." 

Landon  laughed  a  dry  little  laugh. 

"  Then  I  concede  that  I  shall  remain  in  your  debt  — 
permanently.    The  bungling  is  yours,  not  mine.    I  de- 
mand the  balance  of  my  fee.     For  suppose,  my  dear 
Miller,  that  I  gave  your  game  in  Gibraltar  away?" 

"Suppose  you  did,"  said  Miller,  placidly.  "It  would 
be  a  question  of  your  word  against  mine,  would  it  not?" 

There  was  nothing  sneering  in  his  tone,  but  its  bald 
self-assurance  seemed  to  whip  Landon's  temper  into 
fury.  He  swore  wickedly. 

Miller  watched  him  as  the  weasel  might  be  expected 
to  watch  the  trapped  rat.  And  the  dark,  unpleasant 
little  room  had,  indeed,  many  of  the  attributes  of  a 
cage. 


AT    MELILLA  187 

And  then  there  was  an  energetic  gesture  from  the 
gray-clad  arm. 

"  You  bungled  the  matter  —  not  in  stealing  the  wrong 
book,"  said  Miller,  "  but  in  the  manner  of  your  escape. 
It  was  then  that  you  lost  your  value  to  my  employers. 
You  are  liable  to  be  arrested  in  any  of  the  British  domin- 
ions. Till  that  matter  is  settled,  you  are  a  weapon  with- 
out an  edge,  for  us.  That  error  must  be  repaired." 

Landon  stared  up  at  him  curiously. 

"How?"  he  asked. 

Miller  made  a  significant  gesture  towards  the  child. 
There  was  no  intention  of  menace  in  it,  but  the  child 
shrank  back,  turning,  not  towards  his  father,  but  with 
a  sudden  instinctive  outstretching  of  his  hand  to  Mu- 
hammed.  The  Moor  grasped  the  little  fingers  silently 
and  smiled  —  a  smile  which  faded  as  he  turned  his  keen, 
watchful  eyes  again  upon  the  visitor. 

"You  must  renounce  your  detention  of  your  son," 
said  Miller.  "You  must  bargain  with  his  grandfather. 
Your  price  must  be  a  certain  competency,  if  you  will, 
but  above  all  the  right  to  return  unquestioned  into 
your  proper  place  in  society.  In  this  way  alone  can  you 
continue  to  be  of  use  —  to  me." 

There  was  a  silence.  Landon,  still  a-squat  upon  the 
floor,  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  the  heel  of  his  fist  support- 
ing his  hand,  stared  up  at  his  mentor  with  impassive 
eyes.  In  the  shadow  on  his  right  Muhammed  stood, 
still  holding  the  child's  hand,  his  glance  hovering  over 
Miller  with  a  speculation  which  was  almost  distrust. 
Behind  him  the  tailor  stitched  apathetically  at  his 
dilapidated  wares. 

Suddenly  Landon  turned  to  the  Moor. 

"You  have  heard?"  he  questioned  sharply. 


i88  THE    PURSUIT 

"I  have  heard,  oh,  Sidi." 

"And  understood?" 

The  man  hesitated. 

"There  is  a  purpose  of  surrendering  the  Sidi  Jan?" 
he  murmured,  and  his  voice  conveyed  not  so  much  pro- 
test as  incredulity. 

Landon  nodded. 

"This  month  of  toil,  all  our  leagues  of  weariness  and 
pain  among  the  men  of  the  M'Geel  are  things  lost, 
then,"  went  on  the  Moor  impassively.  "An  order  has 
come  and  we  must  leap  to  obey  it.  The  Sidi  Jan,  too  ? 
His  voice  is  not  to  be  heard  in  the  matter."  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders  apathetically.  "Only  a  child,"  he  added, 
and  touched  the  golden  curls  with  a  caressing  hand. 
"Only  a  bale  of  merchandise,  a  thing  to  be  bought  and 
sold." 

Miller  turned  and  looked  at  him  keenly.  The  Moor 
met  the  glance  with  a  droop  of  the  head  which  spoke 
eloquently  of  submission.  But  a  queer  smile  began  to 
harden  Landon's  lips.  He  rose  slowly  to  his  feet. 

"A  bale  of  merchandise,"  he  repeated  slowly.  "And, 
as  I  am  reminded,  we  toiled  to  bring  it  uninjured  across 
the  wilds  of  the  Beni  M'Geel.  Will  that  be  reckoned  in 
the  value  of  it?"  he  asked,  and  wheeled  suddenly 
towards  Miller  with  a  savage,  cat-like  motion.  "Will 
they  pay  me  for  my  sweat  and  thirst  and  pain  ?" 

The  gray  man  was  silent  for  a  moment.  There  was 
something  electric  in  the  atmosphere,  something  menac- 
ing, something  —  and  this  was  perhaps  what  his  machine- 
like  mind  shrank  from  most  —  something  human  and 
passionate.  These  were  not  among  the  goods  which 
Mr.  Miller  sought  to  purchase. 

"You  will  do  your  own  bargaining,"  he  said,  in  a 


AT    MELILLA  189 

level,  dispassionate  tone.  "But  the  child  must  be  de- 
livered. The  price  ?  There  you  are  master  of  your  own 
affairs." 

For  the  second  time  Landon's  eyes  dwelled  on  Mu- 
hammed's  face. 

"I  shall  answer  him  —  how?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"Thus!"  said  the  Moor,  and  flung  his  arms  round 
Miller's  elbows  and  smothered  his  lips  upon  his  breast, 
while  Landon,  laughing  a  queer,  excited  laugh,  snatched 
up  a  garment  from  the  dismal  heap  on  the  floor,  tore  off 
a  liberal  patch,  and  deftly  wound  it  in  gag-wise  between 
the  prisoner's  teeth.  Shackled  with  ragged  waist-cloths 
at  ankle  and  wrist,  the  gray  figure  was  lowered  down 
the  steps  into  the  darkness.  Muhammed  spoke  rapidly 
and  incisively  for  the  space  of  a  minute  to  the  Jew,  who 
listened  in  impassive  silence.  Then,  with  a  last  com- 
manding gesture,  the  Moor  opened  the  door  and  went 
out  again  alone  into  the  swiftly  falling  dusk. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MUHAMMED   SCORES  TWICE 

MUHAMMED'S  steps  were  bent  away  from  the 
town  towards  the  row  of  dilapidated  hovels 
which  fringe  the  bank  of  sand  below  the  nearer  block- 
house. And  he  walked  quickly;  there  was  definite  pur- 
pose and  no  sign  of  hesitation  in  his  stride.  He  came 
to  a  halt  before  a  dwelling,  half  burrow,  half  barn, 
round  the  entrance  of  which  were  clustered  half  a  dozen 
ragged  figures. 

The  Moor's  face  was  dark  in  the  shadow  of  his  haik 
hood,  but  he  appeared  to  need  no  introduction.  He 
raised  a  finger  and  beckoned.  One  of  the  lounging 
figures  rose  grudgingly  and  drew  aside  with  him. 

"I  have  it  from  Yakoob,  Signor  Luigi,  that  you  leave 
to-morrow.  That  must  be  altered.  It  may  be  necessary 
to  make  a  start  to-night." 

The  other  raised  a  dark  Italian  face  towards  the 
Moor  and  eyed  him  questioningly.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

"I  have  no  charter  from  Yakoob,"  he  said.  "I  return 
home  to  Salicudi  —  to  await  the  sponge-fishing  season. 
I  need  a  holiday;  this  contraband  running  frets  the 
nerves,  do  you  see  ?  I  wish  to  forget  the  need  of  having 
eyes  —  and  a  telescope  —  at  the  back  of  one's  head." 

For  a  moment  Muhammed  was  silent,  debating,  as 
it  seemed,  something  in  which  memory  or  experience 
gave  him  no  assistance. 


MUHAMMED    SCORES    TWICE       191 

"Salicudi?"  he  questioned. 

"In  the  Lipari  group,"  said  the  other,  laconically. 
"My  home." 

"An  island?"  said  the  Moor.  "And  your  home? 
What  is  it  ?  A  house  —  a  hut  —  a  castle  ?  Give  me 
particulars.  My  chiefest  need  would  be  privacy.  Can 
you  guarantee  it?" 

The  Italian  pondered. 

"You  flee  from  —  what?"  he  demanded. 

"From  a  curiosity  which  still  seems  to  dog  my  foot- 
steps," said  the  Moor,  drily.  "Let  it  be  sufficient  for 
you  to  know  that  with  three  friends  I  desire  to  vanish 
from  Melilla  to-night.  We  might  find  it  convenient  to 
remain  temporarily  on  Salicudi.  It  depends  on  your 
neighbors'  thirst  for  information  and  your  capabilities 
of  defeating  it." 

Signor  Luigi  gave  an  expressive  and  contemptuous 
wave  of  the  hand. 

"  On  Salicudi  are  six  families  —  cousins  of  mine,  all 
of  them.  I  and  my  brother  Sandro  alone  possess  boats 
or  money.  The  others  work  for  us  and  are  fed.  We  do 
not  encourage  them  to  think;  they  do  not  tire  their 
magnificent  brains  except  under  our  direction." 

Muhammed  nodded  appreciatively. 

"The  priest?"  he  suggested. 

"Father  Sigismondi  serves  six  islands  besides  mine," 
said  the  smuggler.  "He  visits  us  by  favor  of  my  boat, 
when  Christian  offices  are  in  special  demand.  It  is  a 
matter  I  regulate  myself." 

"Carabineers,  tax  collectors?" 

"Of  the  former,  none;  we  have  leave  to  cut  our  own 
throats.  Of  the  latter,  one  yearly.  He  is  due  in  about 
eight  months'  time." 


i92  THE    PURSUIT 

"Food?" 

"Polenta  —  fish  —  beans;  at  times  of  festa  a  risotto 
of  kid.  We  have  goats,  and  therefore  milk." 

The  Moor  nodded. 

"I  am  empowered  to  offer  you  for  your  hospitality 
for  myself  and  friends  twenty  lire  per  head  per  week 
during  our  stay  on  your  boat  or  island,"  he  said  slowly. 

Luigi  scratched  his  head. 

"One  hundred  lire  for  the  lot?"  he  temporized. 
"You  have  appetites,  you  Moors;  that  is  notorious." 

"We  have  appetites  —  for  food,"  agreed  Muhammed. 
"The  bill  of  fare  you  quote  contains  little  that  would 
be  dignified  as  such  in  my  way  of  thinking.  You  will 
take  eighty  lire  per  week,  or  lose  this  trade  of  Yakoob's. 
Choose  quickly." 

For  the  second  time  the  Italian's  shoulders  rose  in  a 
shrug. 

"What  you  will,"  he  said  apathetically.  "You  hold  a 
pistol  to  my  head." 

"Try  to  remember  that  it  remains  always  loaded," 
replied  the  other,  and  turned  briskly  towards  the  port. 
"You  had  better  see  to  your  arrangements  instantly." 

He  passed  across  the  sand  towards  the  dirty  little 
Marina  which  fronts  the  shipping  offices  and  ship- 
chandlers'  booths,  leaving  his  companion  staring  after 
him  with  a  frown.  Then,  for  the  third  time,  Signor  Luigi 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  followed,  to  enter  finally  a 
ship's  dingy  which  was  tied  to  the  Marina  steps.  In  this 
he  gained  a  large  lateen-rigged  boat  which  swung  at  her 
moorings  in  the  bay. 

The  motor  launch  floated  idly  on  the  ripples  at  the 
landing  stage  immediately  below  the  citadel.  The  en- 
gineer had  come  ashore  and  sat  on  a  bench  beneath  the 


MUHAMMED    SCORES    TWICE       193 

tarpaulin  which  had  been  roughly  erected  to  protect 
some  perishable  government  stores.  In  the  shadow  of 
the  Marina  booths,  Muhammed  halted  and  looked 
thoughtfully  at  the  man  and  then  at  the  launch  and 
finally  at  the  setting  sun.  The  birth  of  a  new  and  up- 
lifting emotion  could  be  seen  working  in  his  expressive 
eyes. 

"Bismillah!"  he  exclaimed  softly.  "The  one! 
Why  not  the  three!" 

He  drew  himself  up ;  a  deep  breath  escaped  him.  He 
slipped  around  the  back  of  the  line  of  booths  and  reap- 
peared coming  as  from  the  citadel.  And  he  had  the 
aspect  of  haste  and  importance. 

He  walked  straight  up  to  the  waiting  engineer. 

"  I  bring  an  order  that  you  do  not  await  your  mistress 
but  return  for  her  in  three  hours'  time,"  he  said  in  excel- 
lent English. 

The  man  looked  up  in  stolid  surprise. 

"Eh?"  he  questioned. 

"  Your  mistress  has  accepted  an  invitation  to  dine  with 
the  governor,"  said  Muhammed.  "You  are  to  return 
for  her  at  ten  o'clock." 

The  man  got  up  and  shook  himself  lazily  as  he  strolled 
towards  the  launch. 

"Nice  hospitable  old  cock  —  what?"  he  hazarded. 
"  Did  n't  send  me  down  a  small  bottle  of  beer  and  a 
sandwich,  now  did  he?" 

Muhammed  shook  his  head.  The  man  grunted  pes- 
simistically, gave  a  surly  little  nod,  and  sat  down  behind 
the  launch's  steering  wheel.  A  moment  later  he  was 
grooving  a  white  trail  of  foam  out  into  the  bay. 

Muhammed  sighed  —  a  sigh  which  expressed  relief, 
content,  and  the  expansion  of  a  hitherto  unleashed  ex- 

13 


i94  THE    PURSUIT 

citement.  He  turned  and  ran  rapidly  back  along  the 
shore.  A  second  visit  to  the  hovels  below  the  block- 
house resulted  in  a  conference  with  another  of  their 
deplorably  clad  inhabitants.  A  taciturn  fellow  this,  of 
apparently  Spanish  extraction.  But  the  fact  that  he 
wore  the  remains  of  an  extremely  dissolute  haik  over  a 
pair  of  remarkably  tattered  frieze  trousers  hinted  at  a 
cosmopolitanism  which  was  buttressed  by  his  speech. 
He  used  the  lingua  franca  and  moved  amid  an  almost 
palpable  reek  of  garlic. 

After  the  exchange  of  a  few  rapid  sentences,  he  re- 
lapsed into  silence  but  not  into  inactivity.  He  paced 
solemnly  down  the  sand  and  motioned  the  Moor  to  help 
in  the  launching  of  a  boat.  In  it  they  pulled  round  the 
sweep  of  the  bay  into  the  inner  port  and  moored  them- 
selves in  the  berthing  which  the  motor  launch  had 
vacated. 

The  dusk  had  now  become  darkness.  Lights  shone  in 
the  booths ;  the  distressing  clangor  of  a  gramophone 
sounded  from  one  albergar,  the  thrumming  of  a  mandolin 
from  another.  There  was  a  clink  of  spurs  as  half  a  score 
of  artillerymen  clattered  down  the  citadel  ramp,  eager 
for  the  squalid  debaucheries  of  the  port.  A  guardia  civile 
sauntered  along  the  quayside  edge  and  looked  down  into 
the  waiting  boat. 

"  Profitable  evil-doing  is  surely  at  a  low  ebb  when  I 
find  El  Avispa  trying  to  make  an  honest  penny/'  he 
meditated. 

Muhammed's  companion  turned. 

"Why  do  you  term  me  The  Wasp,  Senor?"  he 
asked  with  a  grin  of  complacence.  "  Have  I  been  known 
testing?" 

The  guardia  made  a  jerky  motion  of  his  thumb  in  the 


MUHAMMED    SCORES    TWICE       195 

direction  of  the  great  convict  establishment  upon  the 
hill. 

"I  don't  know,  amigo.  Your  exploits  are  scheduled  up 
there;  have  a  care  that  I  do  not  need  to  refer  to  them. 
Whom  do  you  await?" 

"The  Senor  and  the  Senora  who  landed  from  the 
yacht,"  said  the  boatmen.  "They  visit  the  Senor  Intend- 
ente." 

The  guardia  looked  doubtful. 

"They  landed  from  a  boat,  a  motor  boat,"  he  objected. 

"Precisely,"  agreed  the  other.  "It  appears  that  some- 
thing affected  the  engine  of  this,  some  leak  of  the  jack- 
eting which  I  do  not  understand,  but  which  I  am 
informed  cools  the  cylinders.  The  engineer  returned 
while  he  could,  enlisting  my  services  to  await  and  ex- 
plain matters  to  his  employer." 

"Humph!"  grunted  the  uniformed  man.  "His 
choice  showed  little  discretion.  See  to  it  that  you  do  not 
disgrace  your  opportunity.  That  seat  is  bespattered  with 
fish-oil  and  scales.  Wipe  it ! "  He  made  a  commanding 
gesture  towards  the  offending  stain,  and  walked  majes- 
tically away. 

At  the  far  end  of  the  Plaza  he  was  seen  to  halt  and  ob- 
serve two  newcomers,  who  appeared  leisurely  descending 
the  citadel  ramp.  A  gold-braided  official  was  in  at- 
tendance on  them,  and  his  gestures  were  rapid  and 
deferential.  The  guardia  civile  saluted  and  spoke. 
Muhammed,  watching  keenly,  gave  another  sigh.  Fate 
was  on  his  side.  The  very  guardians  of  law  and  order 
were  unconsciously  buttressing  his  plan.  This  officious 
guardia  civile  was  already  explaining  the  situation  to 
Miss  Van  Arlen  and  her  companion.  The  onus  of  ex- 
planation—  and  possible  suspicion  —  was  thus  being 


ig6  THE    PURSUIT 

lifted  from  shoulders  possibly  less  capable  of  bearing  it. 
He  muttered  his  satisfaction  in  a  hurried  undertone. 

The  girl  and  Aylmer  advanced  towards  the  quayside, 
the  gesticulating  official  still  in  attendance.  The  latter 
eyed  the  waiting  boat  disdainfully. 

"  Let  me  demonstrate,  Senora,"  he  cried,  "  that  our 
port  can  supply  something  less  deplorable  in  the  way  of 
shore  boats.  Let  me  summon  a  pinnace  and  crew  from 
the  naval  arsenal." 

Muhammed's  heart  stood  still.  But  fate  smiled  on 
him  yet. 

Miss  Van  Arlen  protested  that  the  boat  would  do  well 
enough,  that  it  was  hardly  fair  to  have  kept  this  man 
waiting  by  the  instructions  of  her  own  engineer,  as  it 
appeared,  and  then  refuse  to  engage  him.  With  a  smile 
and  bow  of  farewell  she  took  her  seat  in  the  stern,  while 
the  guardia  civile  muttered  stern  instructions  to  the 
rowers  anent  their  duty.  They  received  them  in  stolid 
silence.  Aylmer  took  the  yoke  lines,  and  amid  a  renewed 
demonstration  of  respect  from  the  men  of  gold  braid,  the 
boat  shot  out  into  the  darkness. 

A  slight  mist  hung  over  the  water,  but  the  riding  lights 
of  the  yacht  were  plain  enough  and  Aylmer  headed  directly 
for  them.  He  leaned  forward  and  asked  a  question  of  the 
man  who  pulled  stroke  oar. 

"The  Sefior  who  came  ashore  with  us?"  he  queried. 
"  Did  you  mark  him  ?  Did  he  return  in  the  motor  boat  ?" 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  did  not  see  it,"  he  said  laconically.  "Have  the 
goodness  to  steer  well  to  the  right.  Your  present  course 
will  foul  a  line  of  net  buoys." 

Aylmer  pulled  the  line  and  swerved  as  directed.  And 
then  Claire  spoke,  with  a  hint  of  something  in  her  voice 


MUHAMMED    SCORES    TWICE       197 

which  was  nearly  akin  to  suspicion  without  exactly  at- 
taining it. 

"Mr.  Miller  frankly  puzzles  me,"  she  said. 

Aylmer  gave  a  little  nod  in  the  darkness. 

"  Yes,"  he  agreed.  "There  is  a  sense  of  —  of  estrange- 
ment about  him.  He  is  good  company,  a  mondain,  in- 
telligent, but  not  —  human.  One  feels  that  at  every  turn." 

The  girl  made  a  gesture  towards  the  shore. 

"What  can  he  have  to  do  in  that —  that  ash  heap?" 
she  asked.  "  A  man  who  poses  as  a  flaneur,  a  dilettante" 

"Pottery?"  suggested  Aylmer.  "Recollects;  I  have 
seen  his  collections.  They  are  sound  and  in  good  taste, 
without  being  remarkable." 

"That  is  what  I  think,"  she  acquiesced.  "For  the  life- 
work  of  a  man  they  are  petty.  It  is  mysterious;  he  is 
mysterious !  Why  did  he  not  rejoin  us  this  evening  at 
the  governor's  office  as  he  promised?" 

Aylmer  smiled. 

"The  ardors  of  the  chase,"  he  hazarded.  "He  is 
probably  sitting  in  the  sanctum  of  some  Jew  huckster, 
chaffering  for  the  least  worn  of  a  collection  of  Rabat  rugs 
or  old  Mequinez  steel-work.  He  will  come  on  board 
to-morrow  to  explain  and  bid  us  farewell,  and  we  shall 
hear  all  about  it." 

"About  what?"   asked  the  girl  enigmatically. 

Aylmer  smiled  again. 

"About  —  what  he  chooses  to  tell  us,"  he  answered, 
and  jerked  the  yoke-line  energetically,  as  a  couple  of  oval 
dark  objects  loomed  up  on  the  surface  just  ahead. 

There  was  a  swish  and  a  dragging  sound,  and  the  dark 
objects  disclosed  themselves  alongside  as  net  buoys. 
They  hung  below  the  gunwale  persistently ;  the  boat  was 
obviously  brought  to  a  standstill. 


198  THE    PURSUIT 

"In  spite  of  my  warning  the  Sefior  has  fouled  the  fish- 
ing nets,"  growled  the  boatman. 

"On  the  contrary,"  retorted  Aylmer,  "your  directions 
carried  us  straight  into  them.  A  direct  course  would  have 
avoided  this." 

The  man  shipped  his  oar  and  stood  up. 

"The  Senor  will  permit  me  to  pass  him?"  he  said. 
"The  rudder  itself  must  be  unshipped  to  clear  us." 

Aylmer  shifted  his  seat  to  one  side  as  the  man  leaned 
over  him.  The  next  instant  he  had  cried  out  —  a  choking 
cry,  smothered  under  the  folds  of  the  sail  which  the  man 
had  heaped  bodily  upon  his  head.  His  hands  were  grasped 
and  drawn  together  in  the  loop  of  a  rope.  Lashings  were 
knitted  about  his  limbs  with  almost  miraculous  rapidity. 
Stark  and  inert,  he  felt  himself  rolled  into  the  bottom  of 
the  boat,  his  rage  and  horror  almost  suffocating  him  as 
he  heard  the  quickly  stifled  cry  which  told  him  that  his 
companion  was  suffering  like  treatment.  And  then,  for 
half  a  minute,  the  rapid  rumble  of  the  rowlocks  was  evi- 
dence that  the  boat  was  being  furiously  rowed  —  whither 
he  could  not  guess. 

There  was  a  shock  of  wood  meeting  wood.  They  had 
run  alongside  another  vessel,  or  possibly  the  piles  of  a 
landing  place.  Whispered  voices  joined  those  of  their 
captors. 

He  felt  himself  lifted,  borne  staggeringly  forward  a  few 
paces  and  then  lowered  into  arms  which  gripped  him  from 
below.  There  was  the  creak  of  reluctant  hinges.  He 
was  placed  not  ungently  upon  a  floor  of  planking.  The 
voices  whispered  again,  something  was  laid  beside  him, 
touching  him.  The  hinges  grated,  footsteps  passed  over 
a  floor  or  deck  above  his  head.  And  then  there  was 
silence. 


MUHAMMED    SCORES    TWICE       199 

But  out  in  the  bay  a  few  minutes  later,  the  decent  still- 
ness of  the  night  was  torn  into  tatters  of  uproar.  The 
voice  of  the  Spanish  boatman  was  uplifted  in  appeals  for 
help  to  every  listening  saint  in  Paradise,  and  to  every  in- 
habitant of  the  Melilla's  citadel  and  port.  The  sounds 
reached,  as  they  were  meant  to  reach,  the  quay.  Every 
guard-room  was  emptied;  the  roisterers  surged  into  the 
street  from  a  dozen  albergars  and  cervecerias.  Half  a 
score  of  boats  put  out  into  the  night,  one  manned  by  the 
naval  police  leading. 

Lament  guiding  them,  within  five  minutes  they  reached 
a  point  where  El  Avispa  clung  disconsolately  to  the  keel 
of  his  upturned  boat,  bewailing  the  day  of  a  birth  which 
had  developed  for  him  into  a  life  of  unremitting  sorrow. 
He  was  dragged  into  the  police  boat  and  ordered  to  ex- 
plain himself. 

It  was  the  fault  of  the  foreign  Senor,  he  deposed.  Jus- 
tice to  himself  compelled  him  to  admit  that,  though  he 
had  every  regard  for  the  reputation  of  a  cavalier  who  was 
now  without  doubt  drowned  fathoms  deep  below  the  very 
spot  on  which  the  rescuing  pinnace  swam.  Being  care- 
less, or  perchance  engrossed  by  the  attractions  of  the 
Sefiora  who  was  for  beauty  a  very  swan,  the  amateur 
steersman  had  precipitated  them  among  the  mackerel 
nets.  The  rudder  was  fouled.  He,  Ignacio  Baril,  some- 
times called  El  Avispa,  had  stood  up  to  pass  to  the  stern 
and  release  it.  The  Senora,  with  entrancing  but  unfor- 
tunate timidity,  had  risen  in  her  turn,  and  the  Senor, 
gesticulating  in  argument,  had  consummated  the  dis- 
aster. He  had  leaned  sideways,  lost  his  balance,  and 
caused  the  boat  to  lurch  completely  over. 

Yes,  he  himself  had  put  forth  the  efforts  of  a  Hercules 
to  save,  at  least,  the  woman.  In  deference  to  the  memory 


200  THE    PURSUIT 

of  his  mother,  who  was  already  among  the  Saints  after  a 
lifetime  of  charity  and  benevolence,  he  must  bear  witness 
to  the  fact  that  her  son  met  this  crisis  with  energy.  How 
was  he  defeated?  The  truth  must  out;  again  it  was  the 
foreign  cavalier.  In  his  panic  he  had  clutched  and  drawn 
back  from  the  brink  of  safety  the  Sefiora  —  alas !  to  per- 
dition. The  would-be  rescuer  had  desisted  from  his  efforts 
only  when  his  overtaxed  lungs  failed  him.  In  a  state  of 
semi-unconsciousness,  Providence  had  guided  his  aimless 
hand  to  reach  and  rest  upon  the  keel  of  his  overturned 
boat.  He  had  been  saved,  it  was  very  true,  but  it  was  a 
question  if  death  itself  was  not  to  be  poignantly  pre- 
ferred to  safety  coupled  with  such  a  burden  of  grief. 
His  days  must  be  clouded  to  his  life's  end. 

And  thereupon  the  bay  echoed  with  the  shouts  of  a 
hundred  searchers  and  the  waters  glittered  in  carnival 
gaiety  below  the  glare  of  their  lights.  A  couple  of  hours 
later  one  of  them  halted,  as  if  to  rest  the  rowers,  in  the 
shadow  of  the  felucca  Santa  Margarita.  From  her  bows 
a  long,  cord-lashed  package  was  silently  lifted  on  the 
larger  vessel's  deck,  while  three  figures  scrambled  hastily 
over  the  gunwale  and  crept  below.  Then  laboriously  the 
clumsy  anchor  was  hauled  home,  the  broad  sail  spread 
to  the  western  breeze,  and  Signer  Luigi  steered  a  straight 
course  into  the  bosom  of  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   SANTA   MARGARITA'S   LAZARET 

THE  torment  of  his  tightly  lashed  limbs,  the  irk  of 
the  gag  between  his  teeth,  want  of  air,  hunger, 
thirst  —  these  had  all  done  their  work  upon  Aylmer  and, 
as  the  hours  went  by,  produced  a  partial  unconsciousness. 
It  was  not  sleep  which  overpowered  him ;  it  was  a  thing  less 
merciful  than  that.  A  numbness  had  seized  both  his  limbs 
and  his  brain.  He  no  longer  felt  the  cutting  pressure  of  his 
bonds;  he  scarcely  realized  where  his  powerlessness  lay. 
Effort  was  paralyzed,  that  was  all  he  understood.  It  was 
a  nightmare;  his  brain  refused  to  confront  reasons;  he 
was  sensitive  only  to  effects.  Thus  it  was  with  a  shock  as 
if  sensibility  itself  was  only  then  returning  that  he  heard 
the  grating  sound  of  hinges,  was  conscious  of  a  gleam  of 
light  in  the  hitherto  persistent  darkness,  felt  fingers  busy 
at  his  lips.  The  gag  fell  from  between  them. 

With  the  powers  of  speech  his  own  again,  his  senses 
used  them  instinctively  for  primitive  needs. 

"  Water ! "   he  muttered  hoarsely.    ' '  Water ! " 

"With  pleasure,  my  dear  cousin ! "  said  a  familiar  voice. 
"  Water,  food,  and  even,  under  restrictions,  a  little  liberty. 
Has  that  programme  attractions?  Surely  —  after  what, 
I  fear,  has  been  a  monotonous  night" 

It  was  Landon  who  held  a  guttering  lamp  in  his  hand  and 
looked  down  at  them  complacently  —  Landon,  debonair, 
smiling,  triumphant 


202  THE    PURSUIT 

Aylmer's  eyes  searched  past  him  after  the  first  glance  of 
surprise.  Touching  his  feet  lay  Miss  Van  Arlen,  bound  as 
he  had  been  bound,  the  mark  of  the  gag  still  grooving  her 
lips  and  cheek.  Beyond  her,  propped  against  a  bulkhead 
at  the  end  of  the  narrow  oblong  lazaret  in  which  they  all 
lay,  was  another  figure.  Aylmer  blinked  and  frowned  in  his 
surprise.  The  face  was  unfamiliarly  pale;  the  usually 
apathetic  eyes  dark  with  repressed  emotion.  But  they 
both  undoubtedly  belonged  to  —  Mr.  Miller. 

This,  then,  was  the  meaning  of  the  opening  of  their 
prison  door  for  the  second  time  the  previous  evening ;  this 
was  the  addition  to  their  cargo  which  darkness  had  con- 
cealed from  him. 

Landon  gave  a  pleasant  little  laugh. 

"An  unexpected  reunion,  is  it  not?"   he  suggested.    "I 
have  unavoidably  deprived  you  of  a  few  luxuries,  my  dear 
Miller,  but  have  supplied  what  is  far  more  important  — 
true  friends." 

For  a  moment  the  other  was  silent ;  his  glance  reviewed 
his  surroundings  with  careful  intensity;  he  seemed  to 
prime  himself  with  all  available  information  before  he 
dealt  with  a  situation  which  found  him  moved,  indeed, 
but  not  by  useless  loss  of  temper. 

"You  will  probably  pay  for  this —  highly,"  he  said  in 
his  usual  level  tones.  "  I  do  not  know  precisely  what  you 
expect  to  gain,  my  dear  Landon,  but  believe  me  the  price 
of  this  exploit  will  be  more  than  you  can  afford." 

Landon  made  a  gesture  of  protest. 

"There  will  be  a  price;  you  are  quick  to  jump  to 
these  conclusions,"  he  agreed.  "But  I,  dear  friend, 
am  the  payee." 

He  nodded,  favoring  each  of  them  with  a  glance  in 
turn. 


SANTA    MARGARITA'S    LAZARET      203 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "That  is  the  situation;  please  under- 
stand it.  I  am  dictating  terms,  I.  I  am  no  longer  the 
hunted,  but  the  hunter.  I  have  many  debits  in  my  mental 
ledger.  I  propose  to  collect  them  once  and  for  all,  in 
full." 

The  three  regarded  him  without  speaking,  and  he 
laughed  again,  amiably. 

"Sister-in-law,"  he  said,  "your  sex  requires  my  first 
apologies.  You  must  blame  the  wind,  not  me,  for  the 
discomforts  of  the  night.  While  we  remained  within 
earshot  of  the  land  or  of  passing  ships,  your  silence  was 
overwhelmingly  desirable.  This  applied  to  all  three  of 
you,  and  the  contumacious  wind  forbore  to  rise.  But 
the  breeze  of  the  last  hour  has  given  us  an  offing  which 
frees  you  of  all  disabilities.  Your  bonds,  to  commence 
with." 

He  stooped  and  rapidly  unlashed  her  wrists  and  ankles. 
He  put  out  a  hand  to  draw  her  to  her  feet. 

With  an  uncontrollable  gesture  of  repulsion,  she  waved 
it  away  and  rose  unsteadily,  clinging  to  the  bulkhead. 
She  faced  him. 

"Have  you  never  asked  yourself  what  the  end  will  be, 
the  end  of  all  this?"  she  said  suddenly,  fiercely.  "You 
win  a  trick  here  and  there;  you  reckon  up  the  points; 
you  mock  your  adversaries.  Do  you  never  give  a  thought 
to  what  the  price,  the  ultimate  price,  must  be?" 

He  looked  at  her  —  a  look  that  held  some  curiosity  — 
a  tinge,  indeed,  of  admiration. 

"You  are  a  little  unexpected,  my  dear  Claire,"  he  an- 
swered. "Does  not  the  more  material  question  of  food 
and  drink  engross  you  ?  Do  you  really  wish  to  discuss 
abstractions?" 

She  gave  a  hopeless  little  shrug  of  her  shoulder. 


204  THE    PURSUIT 

"It  is  because  you  are  wholly  evil,  wholly,  that  you 
puzzle  me.  And  yet  you  are  not  unintelligent ;  you  must 
know,  mere  experience  must  teach  you,  there  is  a  price 
to  be  paid ! " 

"  Certainly."  Landon  laughed  again,  a  mocking  laugh. 
"  I  sketched  it  in  outline  to  your  —  your  lover  —  may  I 
have  the  felicity  of  calling  him  that  ?  —  when  I  enjoyed 
his  company  in  the  silo  on  the  road  to  El  Dibh." 

The  color  flamed  to  her  cheek. 

"You  are  insolent!"  she  said,  and  again  Landon 
laughed. 

"Or  merely  premature?"  he  asked  gaily.  "After 
all,  for  the  moment  hospitality  must  engross  me  and 
nothing  else."  He  turned  and  beckoned  to  some  one 
unseen.  He  received  a  basket. 

"Bread,  cheese,  wine,"  he  explained.  "Will  you  help 
yourself  while  I  assist  my  other  guests?  Or,  if  they 
choose,  they  may  assist  themselves.  But  I  must  have 
your  words,  my  friends,  that  you  will  not  attempt  vio- 
lence or  escape  if  I  release  your  hands." 

The  two  prisoners  exchanged  glances.  Then  Miller 
held  out  his  fettered  wrists. 

"As  you  will,"  he  said  quietly.  "Temporarily  I  give 
you  my  parole.  I  retain  the  right  to  withdraw  it." 

Landon  nodded  and  looked  at  his  cousin. 

"And  you?"  he  asked. 

Aylmer  met  the  look  squarely. 

"No,  to  you  I  will  be  beholden  for  nothing,"  he  an- 
swered. "I  give  no  word;  I  keep  my  independence." 

Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"You  only  inconvenience  yourself,"  he  said  indiffer- 
ently. "Well,  my  Quixote,  stay  here  then,  in  the  dark, 
shackled,  and  alone." 


SANTA    MARGARITA'S    LAZARET      205 

He  held  back  the  door,  motioning  the  others  into  the 
outer  cabin.  Miss  Van  Arlen  stood  still,  leaning  against 
the  bulkhead. 

Landon    made    another    gesture    towards    the    door. 
"Ladies  first,"  he  smiled.    "While  we  play  at  pirates,  let 
us  maintain  the  high  standard  of  piratical  courtesy." 
She  shook  her  head. 
"I  prefer  to  stay,"  she  said  quietly. 
Landon's  surprise  escaped  in  an  exclamation.     And 
then    he    laughed  —  an    evil,    sneering    laugh,    which 
brimmed  with  insolence  and  suggestion. 

"You  —  prefer — to  stay?"    he  repeated,  and  looked 
from  her  to  the  man  who  lay  at  his  feet.     "Was  my 
chance  shot  so  far  from  the  target?"   he  asked.    "You 
will  stay  with  —  whom ?    Not  a  lover?" 
Her  eyes  were  stormy,  but  her  voice  was  restrained. 
"Even  your  insolence  does  not  turn  me  from  my  duty," 
she   answered.     "Captain  Aylmer  has  served,   and   is 
suffering  for,  me  and  mine." 

She  turned  her  eyes  from  his  as  she  spoke  and,  as  if 
some  power  outside  herself  compelled  her,  let  them  meet 
the  glance  which  Aylmer  flung  at  her  from  the  level  of 
the  floor.  Through  a  pregnant  moment  she  read  its 
message  —  surprise,  incredulity,  and  then  hope.  These 
lit  fires  in  it  one  by  one,  but  the  last  eclipsed  all  other 
gleams,  and  remained. 
He  spoke. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  simply.    "But  I  am  not  here  to 
add  to  your  hardships.    I  cannot  accept  the  sacrifice." 

"The  decision  is  with  me,"  she  said  quietly,  but  with 
determination.    "It  is  settled.    I  remain  here,  with  Cap- 
tain Aylmer." 
Landon  was  still  smiling. 


206  THE    PURSUIT 

"It  has  its  unconventional  side,  this  decision  of  yours," 
he  said.  "I  must  remind  you  of  that." 

"You  need  remind  me  of  nothing,"  she  answered.  "I 
stay;  that  is  all." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Not  quite  all,"  he  objected.  " I  must,  of  course,  have 
a  promise  from  you  that  you  will  not  interfere  with 
Captain  Aylmer's  bonds  in  any  way." 

She  nodded. 

"Very  well,"  she  said  laconically.    "I  promise." 

Still  Landon  hesitated,  his  hand  upon  the  door. 

"And  you?"  he  said  suddenly,  looking  at  his  cousin. 
"  You  shall  give  me  your  [word  not  to  let  her  touch 
you." 

Aylmer's  eyes  sparkled  with  rage. 

"Have  you  not  got  her  word,  you  dog!"  he  answered, 
and  there  was  an  intonation  on  the  last  syllable  which 
seemed  to  sting  even  Landon's  imperturbability.  For  he 
made  a  threatening  step  forward. 

"By  God,  I  '11  show  you  where  you  are!"  he  cried. 
"You  dare  to  give  me  your  impudence,  here?" 

He  stood  looking  down,  his  breath  coming  pantingly. 
His  cheeks  had  become  curiously  patched;  he  gasped. 

Miller's  even  voice  broke  across  the  tension. 

"  Captain  Aylmer  refuses  any  relaxations,"  he  said  ur- 
banely. "Why  not  accept  the  fact?" 

Landon  swung  round. 

"Do  you  think  I  daren't?"  he  cried  menacingly. 
"Do  you  think  I  dare  n't  go  the  whole  hog?  If  I  swing 
him  overboard,  who  's  to  tell  ?  By  the  Lord,  I  've  a  mind 
for  it — and  to  make  myself  safe  with  the  rest  of  you, 
too.  I  've  a  mind,  a  very  good  mind,  to  rid  myself  of  the 
lot  of  you!" 


SANTA    MARGARITA'S    LAZARET      207 

"  And  live  afterwards  —  on  what  ? "  replied  Miller 
very  quietly. 

There  was  silence,  more  than  a  moment  of  it.  Lan- 
don's  fingers  sought  and  found  purchase  upon  the  wood 
partition.  His  glance  dwelled  upon  Miller,  debatingly. 
Slowly  the  flush  died  from  his  cheek. 

And  then  he  laughed  again,  harshly,  unmirthfully,  even 
apologetically,  so  it  seemed,  but  as  if  the  apology  were  to 
himself.  He  motioned  Miller  to  the  door.  He  laid  the 
basket  upon  the  floor. 

"Make  the  most  of  it,"  he  said.  He  hesitated.  "And 
don't  count  on  my  —  my  good-humor  —  again."  With- 
out a  backward  look,  he  placed  the  lantern  on  the  table 
and  banged  the  door. 

Claire  made  no  comment;  her  whole  desire  was  to 
dull  all  sense  of  emotion  from  the  situation.  She  laid 
her  hand  upon  the  basket ;  she  drew  out  a  bottle  of  wine ; 
she  found  a  tin  cup  and  filled  it.  She  did  it  all  with 
matter-of-factness ;  she  did  not  spare  a  glance  towards 
the  floor. 

And  then  she  knelt  beside  him,  put  her  arm  behind 
his  back,  helped  him  to  shuffle  into  an  uneasy  leaning 
posture  against  the  bulkhead.  She  brought  him  the  cup. 

He  shook  his  head  in  protest. 

"After  you,"  he  said  determinedly. 

Her  lips  moved  to  speech,  and  then  she  stayed  herself. 
After  all  was  not  stolid  acquiescence  best;  did  not  that 
kill  sentiment,  and  was  not  sentiment  the  one  thing  to  be 
dreaded  in  this  situation  ?  She  lifted  her  shoulders  in  an 
indifferent  little  shrug  and  then  she  drank.  He  watched 
her  quietly.  She  refilled  the  cup  and  held  it  to  his  lips. 
He  moved  his  chin  in  a  queer,  cramped  little  nod  of  ac- 
knowledgment and  drank  in  his  turn.  And  there  was  a 


zo8  THE    PURSUIT 

hint  of  reluctance  in  the  little  sigh  with  which  he  relin- 
quished the  emptied  cup. 

She  refilled  it  and  held  it  for  him  again,  anticipating 
his  protests  with  the  declaration  that  she  herself  would 
have  no  more,  disliked  it,  wished,  rather,  for  food.  And 
so  she  watched  him  drink  for  the  second  time,  slowly, 
swallowing  tiny  mouthfuls,  dwelling  on  it.  A  queer 
sense  of  unreality  gripped  her  as  she  did  so.  It  was  as 
if  she  waited  on  and  tolerated  the  foibles  of  a  child.  A 
hundred  times  she  had  done  as  much  or  more  for  her 
small  nephew,  but  without  this  protective  sense  in 
the  doing  of  it.  She  realized  the  fact  with  a  sort  of  self- 
inquisition.  It  pleased  her  to  see  this  man  where  her  help 
was  essential  to  him.  Some  instinct  of  the  same  kind 
had  been  awake  in  her  as  she  nursed  and  watched  over 
him  at  the  silo,  but  it  had  died  or  slept  in  the  interven- 
ing weeks  of  ordinary  converse  at  Gibraltar  and  on  the 
yacht.  It  woke  again  now ;  and  it  had  grown  un watched. 
Why,  she  asked  herself.  Why? 

And  then  came  the  question  of  food.  The  basket  con- 
tained no  accessories,  merely  the  bare  essentials.  She 
had  to  break  the  bread  and  divide  the  cheese  with  her 
fingers,  bit  by  bit.  And  bit  by  bit  she  had  to  place  each 
portion  between  his  teeth.  She  shrank,  or  she  told  her- 
self that  it  was  shrinking,  as  her  hand  brushed  his  mous- 
tache, but  was  there  anything  truly  repellent  in  this 
suddenly  intimate  action  ?  Again  self-inquisition  denied 
it.  Pleasure  was  in  the  sensation,  not  pain. 

She  rose,  at  last,  when  the  contents  of  the  basket  were 
finished,  and  placed  it  on  the  table.  Returning  she 
flicked  the  crumbs  from  his  shoulder  and  then,  with  a 
little  sigh,  sat  down.  He  looked  at  her  gravely,  but  with 
a  gravity  which  tells  of  emotion  restrained. 


SANTA    MARGARITA'S    LAZARET     209 

"Thank  you  again,"  he  said.  "Thank  you  for  every- 
thing, but  — why?" 

She  gave  a  little  start.  Was  not  this  the  question  that 
her  inner  self  had  been  dinning  in  her  ears  for  half  an 
hour  ?  She  was  humbling  herself,  sacrificing  herself  even, 
in  the  eyes  of  such  as  Landon,  lowering  herself  to  serve 
this  man.  Why? 

And  as  she  debated  she  avoided  his  gaze  lest  he  should 
read  indecision  in  her  glance.  And  yet  the  answer  should 
have  been  glib  on  her  lips;  she  had,  indeed,  already 
given  it  to  Landon.  Duty  to  a  servant  suffering  in  her 
service.  But  was  that  all? 

"Did  you  expect  me  to  choose  the  company  of  your 
cousin?"  she  asked  slowly.  "The  very  sight  of  him 
revolts  me.  I  cannot  stand  it!" 

"You  spared  me  a  little  of  that  distaste,  at  our  first 
meeting,"  he  said,  and  there  was  the  glint  of  a  queer 
smile  beneath  his  moustache.  "Have  I  lived  that 
down?" 

"I  know  now  that  you  are  a  gentleman,"  she  said 
simply.  "I  realize,  too,  that  Landon  is  —  is  monstrous, 
wickedness  incarnate,  beyond  the  reach  of  human  feel- 
ing, completely  vile.  I  think,"  she  hesitated,  "I  think 
he  must  have  concentrated  within  himself  every  evil  in- 
fluence that  has  fallen  upon  his  family,  to  leave  you  — 
again  she  faltered,  as  if  she  struggled  with  a  compelling 
power,  not  as  if  a  word  or  phrase  escaped  her  —  "to 
leave  you  —  stainless,"  she  sighed  with  an  inflection  that 
seemed  to  tell  of  something  reluctant  in  the  effort. 

For  a  moment  he  was  silent.  Then  the  color  flamed 
to  his  face;  the  light  of  incredulity  woke  in  his  eyes. 

"Then  I  start  now  with  every  handicap  cleared  away  ?" 
he  asked  quickly.  "You  see  me  —  as  other  men?" 

14 


aio  THE    PURSUIT 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him.  She  smiled  a  little 
wearily. 

"No,"  she  said  quietly.    "Not  as  other  men." 

He  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"Claire,"  he  said  very  quietly,  "a  month  ago  I  came 
first  into  your  life.  Fate  brought  me  to  you,  to  earn,  and 
then  to  resent,  your  unexplained  hatred.  When  I  under- 
stood it,  I  swore  to  myself  that  I  would  make  you  —  just. 
That,  then,  is  a  task  accomplished." 

Was  this  sudden  intimate  use  of  her  Christian  name 
unconscious  or  was  it  premeditated?  She  made  no 
comment ;  she  only  bowed  her  assent. 

"That  was  no  personal  decision,"  went  on  Aylmer. 
"I  did  it  as  a  duty —  to  all  who  bore  my  name.  The 
personal  factor  came  afterwards,  but  so  soon  afterwards 
that  I  can  scarcely  tell  you  when  the  one  merged  in  the 
other.  I  loved  you;  did  you  understand  that?" 

And  now  it  was  her  turn  to  flush  and  wince.  But  was 
it  wincing?  The  pulse  which  throbbed  through  her  — 
was  it  truly  resentment?  A  sense  of  sudden  bewilder- 
ment came  over  her —  a  bewilderment  which  sought 
refuge,  at  first,  in  silence. 

"You  —  you  almost  threatened  "me,"  she  allowed 
at  last,  with  the  ghost  of  a  tiny  smile.  "And  I  am 
not  accustomed  to  threats.  They  —  they  made  me 
angry." 

"Yes,  but  you  understood!"  he  cried.  "You  under- 
stood what  I  sought  and  for  what  reward?" 

There  was  something  masterful,  triumphant  in  his 
tone  which  grated  on  her  instincts,  a  reaction  to  the  days 
when  all  he  said  and  did  grated  upon  her.  And  it  helped 
her  to  regain  command  of  herself,  to  snatch  herself  from 
the  brink  to  which  she  was  drifting. 


SANTA    MARGARITA'S    LAZARET     211 

"I  hoped  I  misunderstood,"  she  said  coolly.  "For  it 
was  a  liberty.  At  the  time  I  considered  it  an  insult." 

She  did  not  look  at  him,  but  she  heard  the  quick  intake 
of  his  breath.  And  the  sudden  pain  in  his  voice  smote 
her  with  remorse. 

"As  an  insult  it  is  atoned?"  he  asked.  "Does  it  re- 
main a  liberty  still?" 

She  turned  her  eyes  to  his,  and  he  looked  up  to  know 
his  opportunity  there,  and  could  not  grasp  it.  He  lay  a 
prisoner  at  her  feet.  If  he  had  been  free,  if  his  arms  had 
been  about  her,  if  he  had  used  his  man's  strength  and 
mastery  to  take  and  hold  her,  if  opportunity  had  not 
mocked  him,  would  he  have  won?  Fate  knows,  but 
fate  was  smiling  then.  And  the  history  of  man  and 
maid  from  all  ages  is  with  us.  Yes,  he  would  have  won ; 
he  would  have  won. 

She  gave  a  tiny  gasp,  and  then  the  fugitive  instinct,  the 
primeval  resort  to  flight,  was  upon  her.  She  sent  oppor- 
tunity packing  with  her  reply. 

"I  am  here,  by  my  own  choice,  with  you  —  alone," 
she  reminded  him.  "A  liberty  may  become  a  question 
of  —  circumstance." 

He  flushed  hotly,  and  again  remorse  gripped  her  as 
she  saw  the  haggard  lines  draw  in  about  his  eyes. 

"I  can  only  ask  your  pardon,"  he  answered.  "I  ask 
it,  humbly  and  contritely."  He  gave  a  wry  little  smile. 
"And  perhaps  circumstance  is  to  blame,  after  all." 

Opportunity  halted  in  her  flight,  hesitated,  gave  a 
returning  step  towards  beckoning  remorse.  There  was 
a  shuffling  sound  at  the  door  of  the  lazaret,  and  oppor- 
tunity wheeled  and  fled. 

"  Let  me  in ! "  said  a  childish  voice  impatiently.  "  It 's 
me!  It's  me!  Let  me  in!" 


212  THE    PURSUIT 

The  girl  started  forward. 

"John!"  she  cried.  "Little  John!  Find  the  bolt! 
It 's  your  side  of  the  door!" 

The  shuffling,  scrabbling  sound  continued.  An  im- 
patient foot  kicked  the  panel.  And  then  suddenly, 
creakingly,  the  door  flew  back.  The  child  pranced 
gaily  over  the  threshold. 

"I  just  kicked,  so!"  he  explained,  "and  it  flew  in! 
I  did  not  know  there  was  a  cupboard  here."  He  gave 
a  shrill  little  shout  of  amazement  and  capered  towards 
Aylmer.  "It's  the  pig  man!"  he  cried.  "The  pig 
man!" 

Claire's  arms  closed  about  him  and  snatched  him  to  her. 

"Oh,  John  —  Little  John!"  she  whispered  fiercely. 
"Are  n't  you  glad  to  see  me,  me?" 

He  held  his  face  back  from  her  for  an  instant  and 
looked  at  her  appraisingly. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  meditatively.  "  But  you  are  n't  come  to 
make  me  wear  clean  things  again  ?  Muhammed  does  n't." 

And  then  he  wriggled  energetically,  his  eyes  on  Aylmer. 

"Is  he  hurted ?"  he  asked  anxiously.  "He  was  hurted 
once,  last  time  I  saw  him.  Why  have  they  wrapped  up 
his  hands?" 

A  sudden  gleam  shone  on  Aylmer's  face.  He  held 
out  the  pinioned  wrists. 

"Could  you  unknot  them,  old  boy  ?"  he  asked  quickly. 
"Would  you  like  to  try?" 

She  gave  him  a  glance  of  comprehension  and  let  the 
child  go.  He  leaned  down  over  Aylmer  and  his  little 
fingers  picked  at  the  cords.  He  pulled  at  first  un- 
availingly.  Aylmer  gave  low-voiced  suggestions,  showed 
which  knot  should  be  dealt  with  first.  Claire,  as  she 
watched,  put  out  a  hand  instinctively  to  help. 


SANTA    MARGARITA'S    LAZARET     313 

He  smiled,  but  snatched  his  wrists  away. 

"You  forget,"  he  said  quietly. 

She  drew  back. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "  I  forgot,"  and  a  flame  of  unreason- 
ing anger  burned  in  her.  Landon  fought  with  any 
weapon  he  chose  to  forge  —  a  lie  had  ever  been  the 
easiest  to  his  hand.  And  they?  They  must  not  touch 
the  fringe  of  disloyalty;  even  with  him  they  had  to  keep 
perfect  faith.  Her  feminine  perceptions  revolted;  this 
was  too  rigid  for  her  woman's  mind.  If  she  had  forgot- 
ten, for  a  moment,  her  promise,  why  should  he  not  avail 
himself  of  the  slip,  which  was  hers  alone  ?  And  then  she 
smiled.  Had  he  not  gone  up  in  her  estimation  another 
step  ?  Yes,  and  she  smiled  again ;  how  long  ago  was  it 
since  she,  who  now  looked  up  at  him,  had  from  so  very 
great  a  height  of  condescension  and  dislike,  looked 
down? 

Suddenly  the  child  gave  a  little  squeal  of  triumph. 

"There!"  he  cried.  "You  pull  your  hands  —  so! 
Then  I  pull  so!"  And  shouted  again,  for  the  lash- 
ings which  lay  upon  the  parted  wrists  lay  now  loosely, 
in  loops  which  dangled  on  the  floor. 

And  then,  as  anger  had  seized  upon  her,  so  did  fear. 
She  looked  at  him  with  suddenly  apprehensive  eyes. 

"You  will  do  —  what?"  she  asked  tremulously.  Her 
imagination  pictured  half  a  dozen  dangers  in  as  many 
seconds,  all  lurking  to  overwhelm  a  too  reckless  freedom. 

He  smiled. 

"For  the  moment  I  dissemble,  and  wait,"  he  said, 
and  sat  down  quietly  to  loop  anew  the  cords  about  his 
arms,  but  in  running  loops,  this  time  —  knots  which 
would  give  before  one  well-directed  pull. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MILLER   IS   STILL   IMPERTURBABLE 

AS  the  imperturbable  Mr.  Miller  reached  the  deck 
_/~\.  of  the  Santa  Margarita,  he  took  stock,  for  the 
second  time  within  a  few  minutes,  of  his  immediate 
surroundings. 

He  saw  an  exceedingly  dirty  deck  on  which  the  smuts 
from  the  galley  chimney  appeared  to  have  become  em- 
bedded through  long  years  of  neglect.  He  smelt  the  very 
rich,  nourishing  odor  of  spaghetti  fried  with  garlic,  and 
sniffed  unappreciatively,  in  spite  of  his  hunger.  He 
heard  a  couple  of  nasal  voices  chanting  cheerfully,  but 
with  an  exceedingly  labored  accent,  the  Bersaglieri 
quickstep,  and  made  a  tiny  grimace  of  protest.  Around 
him  the  panorama  of  sea  was  empty  of  all  shipping. 
Land  was  out  of  sight. 

Muhammed  leaned  lazily  against  the  tiller  and  eyed 
his  late  employer  with  the  stolid  apathy  which  an  Ori- 
ental alone  can  make  convincing.  Lounging  against  the 
panel  of  the  companion  hatch,  from  which  Landon  and 
his  companion  had  just  emerged,  sat  the  skipper,  Signer 
Luigi,  idly  whittling  a  stick,  and  looking  up  at  his  pas- 
senger with  an  amiable  indifference. 

Miller,  it  must  be  remembered,  had  just  passed  a 
night  of  great  discomfort  and  mental  agitation  following 
a  most  unanticipated  shock.  His  nerves — is  it  wonderful  ? 
—  were  at  tension.  In  spite  of  his  own  imperturbability, 
on  which  he  set  some  store,  the  insouciant  aspect  of  his 


MILLER     STILL    IMPERTURBABLE     215 

surroundings  jarred  on  him.  Was  kidnapping,  then, 
such  an  everyday  affair  that  men  cooked,  and  sang,  and 
whittled  under  his  very  nose  while  the  pirate's  gallows 
very  possibly  stood  awaiting  them?  He  had  probably 
never  approached  petulance  more  nearly  in  the  course 
of  his  well-ordered  existence. 

He  turned  to  Landon  with  a  little  shrug. 

The  other  was  holding  out  the  half  of  a  yard-long 
roll  of  bread,  with  a  lump  of  doubtful-looking  cheese. 

"I  would  have  suggested  a  plateful  of  that  spaghetti, 
my  dear  Miller,"  he  smiled,  "but  my  watchful  eye  un- 
derstood the  curl  of  your  nostril.  This  is  at  least  clean." 

Miller  drew  an  edge  of  tarpaulin  over  a  heaped  rope, 
and,  after  a  regretful  glance  at  his  no  longer  immacu- 
lately gray  trousers,  sat  down.  He  took  the  bread  and 
cheese  and  began  to  eat  slowly. 

There  was  something  bovine  in  the  manner  in  which 
he  carefully  champed  each  mouthful,  something  rumina- 
tive about  the  way  in  which  he  looked  around  him.  But 
behind  this  stolid  mask  of  indifference  his  brain  was 
working  rapidly.  He  was  putting  facts  as  they  appeared 
to  him  to  the  test  of  logic  and  experience.  His  mental 
summing  up  was  rapid.  A  felucca,  of  Italian  register: 
crew,  three  men  and  a  boy.  Engaged  in  the  contra- 
band trade  more  or  less  continuously,  for  the  ingeniously 
contrived  lazaret  between  the  cabin  and  the  galley 
showed  an  attention  to  detail  made  necessary  by  continual 
service.  The  real  mast  passed  through  the  centre  of  his 
prison  of  the  previous  night.  Yet  the  half  of  a  mast,  a 
sham  half,  of  course,  passed  through  the  partition  and 
showed  in  the  cabin.  Doubtless  another  half  was  to  be 
seen  likewise  in  the  galley.  It  was  a  neat  idea;  there 
was  nothing  to  indicate  to  the  casual  glance  of  a  custom's 


ai6  THE    PURSUIT 

officer  that  the  partition  between  the  two  was  not  what 
it  appeared  to  be.  Nothing  but  actual  measurements 
would  discover  the  space  which  hid  the  intervening 
lazaret. 

With  the  tonic  of  food,  his  self-reliance  was  entirely 
his  again.  He  turned  to  confront  Landon  after  half  a 
dozen  mouthfuls,  alert  to  probe  for  the  limits  of  his 
position.  Landon  had  greatly  dared.  Did  he  understand 
how  greatly?  Miller  felt  himself  restored  to  a  state  of 
energy  and  resolution  which  would  very  quickly  find  out. 

"This,"  he  enunciated  slowly,  "is  of  the  nature  of 
piracy.  Do  you  and  your  underlings  realize  it?" 

Landon  was  lighting  a  cigarette.  He  sucked  in  a  full 
mouthful  of  smoke  and  shot  it  out  again  before  he  re- 
plied. The  act  was  artificial  —  far  too  artificial,  Miller 
told  himself  —  in  its  indifference. 

"My  underlings,"  he  answered,  "realize  that  they  are 
well  on  the  way  to  —  what  shall  we  say  —  a  modest 
competency.  Beyond  that,  their  very  finite  understand- 
ings have  not  advanced.  Domani  or  manana  are  words 
frequent  in  their  vocabularies,  but  not  in  relation  to 
results.  Comfortable  procrastination  —  that  is  the  whole 
sense  which  they  appreciate  in  them." 

"Your  own  outlook  is  sufficiently  intelligent  to  pierce 
beyond  to-morrow,"  said  the  other,  drily. 

"Certainly!"  agreed  Landon.  "I  dwell  upon  to- 
morrow, and  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  the  day  after 
that!  I  engage  in  prescient  revels  in  their  rosy-tinted 
hours  1" 

Miller  made  a  little  inarticulate  sound  which  expressed 
a  restrained  but  unequivocal  irritation. 

"Shall  we  be  business-like?"  he  proposed.  "You 
have  entrapped  on  board  this  boat  three  people,  includ- 


MILLER     STILL    IMPERTURBABLE    217 

ing  myself.  What  advantage  do  you  expect  to  get  out 
of  the  situation  and,  bluntly,  how?" 

"You  are  such  a  rigid  man  of  affairs,"  complained 
Landon.  "  You  refuse  even  to  eat  your  breakfast  without 
distractions." 

"I  find  myself  in  an  extraordinary  and  unfamiliar 
situation,"  said  Miller.  "It  is  obvious  that  I  wish  to 
disentangle  myself  from  it  as  soon  as  possible.  Let  me 
hear  and  accept  or  reject  your  terms.  Is  there  any  need 
to  be  mysterious?" 

"None,"  said  Landon,  amiably.  "But  I  have  not 
been  a  man  of  successful  coups,  so  far,  my  dear  friend, 
and  you  must  not  grudge  me  the  unaccustomed  zests  I 
draw  from  this  one.  To  clear  the  situation,  I  purpose 
holding  you  all  three  to  ransom." 

"Where?" 

Landon  laughed. 

"That  you  must  allow  me  to  consider  a  trade  secret. 
I  intend  to  retain  your  company  and  that  of  my  cousin 
and  my  sister-in-law  till  I  am  richer  by  some  forty  thou- 
sand pounds.  There  you  have  the  situation  in  a  nutshell. 
I  am  willing  to  take  the  advice  of  such  a  finished  man 
of  the  world  as  yourself  on  business  methods.  The  end 
in  view  I  cannot  consent  to  vary." 

The  gray  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"You  are  of  opinion  that  money  will  be  paid  for  me? 
By  whom?" 

"I  can  conceive  two  sources  of  supply.  The  German 
Government  —  pray  don't  allow  yourself  to  be  startled 
—  or,  in  the  last  resort,  yourself.  You  are  not  a  poor 
man,  unless  you  have  grossly  misused  your  opportunities." 

"The  German  Government  has  no  interests  of  any 
kind  in  my  well-being  or  otherwise." 


ai8  THE    PURSUIT 

"I  must  take  your  word  for  it,"  said  Landon,  politely. 
"The  alternative  remains  by  us,  literally." 

"Meanwhile,  what  about  the  laws  of  —  whatever 
country  you  purpose  using  the  shore  of?  We  do  not,  I 
take  it,  remain  afloat  —  a  sort  of  modern  Vanderdecken  ?  " 

"Let  me  assure  you  that  no  laws  or  lawgivers  will  be 
of  the  slightest  assistance.  My  friend  Luigi  and  I  propose 
being  a  law  unto  ourselves  and  you." 

"Ah." 

Miller's  tone  was  reflective  and  impassive.  He  had 
found  out  one  of  the  things  he  wanted  to  know.  As  he 
suspected,  they  were  being  taken  to  some  remoteness, 
probably  an  island.  He  digested  the  information 
silently. 

"You  must  pardon  the  want  of  —  of  finish  in  our 
arrangements,"  said  Landon.  "Your  capture  was  en- 
tirely unpremeditated ;  you  were  a  gift  from  the  hand  of 
fate.  Your  suggestion  about  my  child  undid  you. 
The  boy  has  become  the  pivot  of  Muhammed's  existence. 
Queer,  don't  you  think?  I  have  never  professed  to 
plumb  the  depths  of  the  Oriental  mind." 

"And  Miss  Van  Arlen  and  Aylmer?"  questioned 
Miller.  "That  was  a  matter  of  premeditation?" 

"Nothing  less  than  an  inspiration,  a  stroke  of  genius 
conceived  in  a  moment  in  Muhammed's  brain.  Pre- 
meditate? How  could  we  premeditate?  We  expected 
you  and  you  only,  or  your  messenger,  by  the  next  day's 
boat." 

Miller  nodded. 

"Miss  Van  Arlen  and  her  companion  are  officially 
drowned,"  he  said.  "My  own  disappearance  —  how  is 
that  accounted  for?" 

"The  matter  is  now  probably  engaging  the  interest  of 


MILLER    STILL    IMPERTURBABLE    219 

the  Melilla  police.     They  need  distraction;   theirs  is  a 
gray  life,"  said  Landon,  pleasantly. 

Again  Miller  nodded,  perhaps  unconsciously,  and  in 
assent  to  some  deduction  of  his  own  mind.  He  kept 
his  meditative  air  for  a  second  or  two,  shrugged  his 
shoulders  again  pessimistically,  and  then  made  a  brisk 
gesture  of  acquiescence. 

"And  your  terms  —  to  myself  —  are  what?"  he 
asked. 

"Ten  thousand  golden  sovereigns,"  said  Landon.  " Do 
I  hurt  your  self-esteem  by  my  moderation?" 

Miller  smiled  again  sombrely. 

"That  is,  of  course,  preposterous,"  he  said.  "I  do 
not  possess  half  the  sum.  I  should  not  pay  it,  if  I  did. 
If  the  alternative  is  that  you  support  me  for  the  remaining 
number  of  my  days,  I  must  accept  it." 

"That  would  not  be  the  alternative,"  answered  Lan- 
don. "  In  fact,  I  hope  to  be  able  to  prove  to  you  that  an 
alternative  is  lacking.  But,  at  the  same  time,  I  am 
willing  to  hear  proposals." 

"My  proposal  remains  what  it  was  yesterday.  Make 
your  peace  with  your  wife's  family,  give  up  the  child. 
I  shall  then  be  able,  I  have  little  doubt,  to  put  you  in 
the  way  of  earning  more  than  the  sum  you  suggest. 
But  that  you  become  a  person  tolerated  in  ordinary 
English  society  is  essential." 

"I  am,  in  fact,  to  work  laboriously  for  what  is  already 
in  my  grasp.  You  underrate  my  business  capacity,  my 
dear  sir,  you  really  do." 

The  gray  shoulders  were  shrugged. 

"  I  might  possibly  allow  a  payment  of  a  thousand  — 
let  us  say  —  on  account.  That  would  suffice  to  estab- 
lish you  in  a  decent  and  plausible  position.  The  work, 


220  THE    PURSUIT 

as  you  call  it,  would  not  be  difficult.  I  rather  fancy 
you  would  find  it  amusing." 

"I  think  you  want  me  badly,"  said  Landon.  "I 
think  I  must  be  unique  for  your  purposes." 

"Don't  assume  that  it  is  your  intelligence  which  my 
employers  wish  to  buy,"  said  Miller,  coolly.  "It  is  your 
social  standing,  still  something  of  an  asset  in  your  caste- 
ridden  land." 

"But  I  refuse  to  have  my  intelligence  underrated," 
protested  Landon,  gaily.  "I  hug  it;  it  tells  me  many 
things  which  you  may  not  suspect.  One  of  them  is  that 
there  is  a  lever  which  will  displace  your  self-confidence. 
You  are  a  very  bad  bearer  of  —  physical  pain." 

Very  faint  was  the  pulse  of  the  emotion  which  throbbed 
through  Miller's  eyes  as  he  turned  them  towards  his  com- 
panion, but  distinct  enough  for  Landon  to  discover  and 
greet  with  another  amiable  little  laugh. 

"It's  where  blood  tells,"  he  said.  "I  discovered  it 
accidentally;  we  spoke  of  what  D'Amade's  men  had  to 
undergo  as  prisoners  at  the  hands  of  the  Moors,  did  we 
not?  I  mentioned  the  eyes  gouged  out,  the  fettered 
wounded  flung  on  slow  fires,  the  impaled.  You  flinched, 
my  dear  sir,  you  flinched  badly  and  —  I  tried  you  again. 
I  harked  back  to  like  subjects  more  than  once;  the  re- 
sult satisfied  me.  And  then  I  began  to  dwell  upon  your 
complexion.  Is  that  olive  tint  from  Spain,  or  was  there 
a  near  forefather  in  the  gorgeous  East?  Are  you  of 
Hindoo  blood,  my  friend  —  are  you?" 

Miller's  impassive  eyes  met  his,  looked  deeply  within 
them,  and  wandered  vaguely  towards  the  empty  spaces 
of  the  sea.  Landon  chuckled. 

"By  God,  I  would  n't  stop  anywhere,  with  you,  you 
renegade ! "  he  swore  with  sudden,  hot,  irrational  rancor. 


MILLER    STILL    IMPERTURBABLE    221 

"I'd  deal  with  you.  Will  any  one  stop  me?  Ask 
those  men  —  Mafiaists,  every  one.  Stop  me !  They  'd 
give  me  tips ;  they  'd  mutilate  you  as  they  'd  mutilate 
their  own  domestic  animals,  for  fun  1 " 

Miller  drew  back  a  couple  of  paces,  not  with  any 
show  of  disgust  or  fear,  but  with  the  air  of  an  artist  who 
wishes  to  regard  a  finished  work  from  a  more  distant 
aspect.  And  he  surveyed  Landon  keenly. 

"So  I  am  being  threatened?"  he  said  quietly. 

Landon  grinned  wickedly. 

"So  you  're  being  threatened,"  he  agreed.  "Deliber- 
ate the  matter;  give  it  your  best  attention;  and  all  the 
while  remember  that  there  is  nothing  which  will  stop 
me,  not  a  single  solitary  thing. " 

"I  think  you  are  wrong,"  said  Miller,  slowly,  and  then 
—  the  sound  of  it  was  bizarre  to  the  last  degree  between 
his  lips  —  he  whistled  a  quaint  little  run,  which  thrilled 
and  quavered  up  and  down  half  a  dozen  bars  to  end 
upon  a  long-drawn  note. 

There  was  a  queer  silence.  Landon  looked  at  him 
with  a  frown  which  implied  scarcely  apprehension,  but 
what  is  nearly  akin  to  it  —  bewilderment.  For  there 
was  no  mistaking  the  intention  with  which  the  thing 
was  done.  Miller  had  whistled  the  tripping  little  air 
deliberately. 

There  was  a  stirring  from  below.  The  two  hands  ap- 
peared, and  appeared  with  a  suddenness  which  left  no 
room  for  doubt  that  they  had  been  summoned.  The 
savor  of  burning  spaghetti  followed  them ;  the  summons 
had  been  one  exacting  instant  obedience.  They  had  left 
the  frying-pan  upon  the  fire.  Together  with  their  ap- 
pearance came  the  sound  from  the  companion  of  Captain 
Luigi  stumbling  to  his  feet. 


222  THE    PURSUIT 

"Fling  this  man  overboard!"  said  Miller,  in  level, 
indifferent  tones.  He  pointed  to  Landon. 

Landon  gave  a  shout  which  brimmed  with  incredulity 
as  much  as  fear.  His  hand  flew  to  his  breast  pocket 
fumblingly,  but  too  late.  Miller's  grip  was  on  his  wrist ; 
Miller's  thrust  flung  him  into  the  skipper's  waiting  arms. 
As  Muhammed  relinquished  the  helm  and  sprang  for- 
ward, one  of  the  deck  hands  ducked,  tripped  him,  and 
rose  between  his  legs  —  that  deadly  Mafiaist  trick  which 
never  fails  of  its  results.  The  other  had  closed  in  upon 
Landon  as  he  struggled  in  the  captain's  grip.  He  assisted 
to  drag  him  relentlessly  towards  the  gunwale. 

Landon  yelled  again.  His  eyes  glared  out  of  the 
struggle  at  Miller  in  a  very  fury  of  amazement.  He 
bellowed  oaths,  blasphemies,  obscenities  even,  the  fruits 
of  instinctive  passions  and  automatic  to  his  wrath.  And 
there  was  something  almost  devilish  in  the  silence  which 
his  two  assailants  kept.  They  panted  a  little,  by  stress 
of  effort,  but  they  uttered  no  other  sound.  They  merely 
edged  their  victim  nearer  and  yet  nearer  to  the  side, 
forced  him  against  the  gunwale,  stooped  with  concerted 
action  for  one  last  heave,  and  then  —  fell  away  from 
him  with  a  little  obsequious  shrug.  For  Miller's  voice 
had  been  heard  again. 

"Basta  —  enough!"  he  had  said,  his  voice  still  un- 
raised. 

Landon  lay  where  their  relinquished  efforts  had  left 
him,  huddled  against  the  gunwale,  and  staring  up  at  his 
surroundings  with  fierce,  incredulous  eyes.  Muhammed 
was  stretched  prone  beneath  his  assailant  who,  as  he 
tripped  him,  had  deftly  caught  the  Moor's  right  wrist 
and  twisted  it  behind  his  back.  He  sat  on  his  prisoner 
now,  still  holding  the  other's  hand,  but  carelessly  and 


MILLER    STILL    IMPERTURBABLE    223 

without  open  concern,  perfectly  aware  that  the  slightest 
movement  from  his  human  pedestal  would  break  the 
delicate  bone  as  pipe-clay  breaks  —  in  one  clean  snap. 

"Have  I  made  myself  plain?"  asked  Miller,  equably. 

Landon  used  a  moment  of  complete  silence  to  stare 
round  the  deck,  poising  his  glance  on  each  of  his  com- 
panions in  turn.  It  rested,  at  last,  on  Miller's  entirely 
emotionless  countenance. 

"Yes  —  and  damn  you !"  said  Landon,  rising  sullenly 
to  his  feet. 

Miller  nodded. 

"An  amateur  cannot  break  into  my  particular  class  of 
business,  my  dear  Landon,"  he  said.  "There  are  pitfalls 
for  him  at  every  turn.  Membership  of  a  dozen  organi- 
zations is  necessary,  and  they  are  close  corporations ;  even 
their  humbler  servants,  as  you  see,  find  them  rigidly 
exacting." 

Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders,  produced  his  cigar- 
ette case  and  match-box,  stuck  a  match  in  his  mouth,  and 
drew  the  cigarette  across  the  roughened  edge  of  the  box. 
Miller  suffered  himself  to  smile. 

"Your  nerves  are  not  altogether  at  their  best,"  he 
allowed,  "but  there  is  no  need  to  emphasize  the  fact. 
I  have  no  wish  to  deal  harshly  with  you.  In  fact,  half 
of  the  scheme  you  have  just  outlined  to  me  has  my  ap- 
proval. I  shall  not  interfere  with  your  desire  to  receive 
compensation  from  your  father-in-law,  but  whatever  you 
receive  you  will  regard,  if  you  please,  as  from  me,  pro- 
vided by  my  efforts  and  to  be  accounted  for  in  full ! 
Is  that  understood  ?  " 

Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders  again. 

"I  welcome  your  assistance,"  he  said  quietly,  and  put 
the  cigarette  to  its  appointed  use. 


224  THE    PURSUIT 

"But  my  scheme  has,  in  the  final  event,  to  be  carried 
out  in  all  its  details,"  Miller  added.  "In  your  bargain 
with  your  relations,  complete  social  regeneration  and 
recognition  is  included." 

"  But  not  —  the  boy  ?  "  said  Landon,  slowly. 

"But  not  the  boy,"  repeated  Miller.  "The  first,  I 
have  satisfied  myself,  cannot  be  obtained  without  the 
surrender  of  the  second.  You  follow  me?" 

Landon  looked  at  Muhammed,  looked  at  the  deck 
hand  who  still  sat  impassive  on  the  Moor's  shoulders, 
looked  at  Luigi,  looked,  lastly,  at  Miller. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"We  are  in  your  hands  —  literally,"  he  said,  and 
made  an  amiable  gesture  of  assent. 


CHAPTER  XX 

AYLMER  CLIMBS  —  AND   FALLS 

THE  door  of  the  lazaret  was  pulled  quietly  back. 
The  opening  showed  Miller,  silhouetted  as  in  a 
frame,  a  splash  of  sunshine  which  flowed  down  into  the 
outer  cabin  hanging  in  a  golden  halo,  as  it  were,  behind 
his  remarkably  solid  looking  head.  Coming  from  the 
full  light  into  the  darkness  —  for  the  lamp  was  already 
flickering  to  final  extinction  —  he  blinked.  And  there 
was  something  unhuman  in  his  aspect  as  he  stood  there, 
searching  the  gloom  with  his  impassive  eyes,  something 
not  altogether  stealthy,  but  yet  something  with  a  tinge 
of  menace  in  it.  So,  no  doubt,  the  hovering  night-bird 
comes  to  a  pause  above  its  victim. 

His  glance  first  recognized  Miss  Van  Arlen.  He  dem- 
onstrated the  fact  by  a  little  deferential  movement  —  a 
bow  which  seemed  to  deprecate,  or  even  criticize,  the 
circumstance  of  her  surroundings.  He  smiled,  but  with 
slightly  raised  eyebrows,  and  as  his  glance  travelled  on  to 
meet  Aylmer's  there  was  a  hint  of  suggestion  in  it.  It 
was  a  glance,  at  any  rate,  which  was  responsible  for  the 
faint  flush  which  rose  to  the  girl's  cheek  and  for  the  hard- 
ening of  Aylmer's  lips.  For  some  reason  unknown  even 
to  himself,  the  latter's  bound  arms  instinctively  moved 
towards  the  child,  who  had  nestled  against  his  shoulder 
and  had  there  fallen  asleep. 

"A  scene  which  would  catch  a  painter's  —  or  a  poet's 

15 


226  THE    PURSUIT 

eye — "  said  the  gray  man,  meditatively.  "We  could 
call  it  Innocence,  could  we  not?" 

Again  he  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  that 
questioning,  suggestive  glance  which  somehow  seemed 
to  deprecate,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  imply  equivo- 
cation. Neither  answered  him,  and  he  made  an  energetic 
gesture  —  one  which  relegated  trivialities  to  forgetfulness. 

"  I  must  be  a  source  of  wonder  to  you ;  I  am  to  myself ! " 
he  cried.  "To  allow  myself  to  be  trapped  into  such 
trifling  at  such  a  moment!  It  is  the  artistic  tempera- 
ment ;  you  must  address  your  amazement  to  it  and  your 
forgiveness  to  me.  I  bring  good  news,  relatively." 

Claire  rose  from  her  seat  on  the  floor. 

"Yes?"  she  said  eagerly.  "There  is  a  chance  of 
escape,  or,  perhaps,  rescue?" 

His  eyes  became  sombre. 

"No,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  said.  "My  optimism 
has  not  reached  so  far,  as  yet.  But  I  have  persuaded  our 
captors  that  Captain  Aylmer's  detention  here  is  not 
necessary.  They  do  not  exact  a  parole  from  him,  but 
they  permit  me  to  loose  his  lower  limbs  and  to  give 
him  the  freedom  of  the  deck.  It  is  because  his  release 
implies  your  own  that  this  concession  gives  me  —  and 
him  —  undoubted  pleasure." 

He  stooped  as  he  finished  speaking,  and  quickly  and 
deftly  unlashed  the  cords  at  Aylmer's  ankles  and,  with 
a  jerk,  pulled  him  to  his  feet.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 
as  he  looked  at  the  still  tethered  hands. 

"I  fear  I  am  helpless  there,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said. 
"Complete  rights  of  enfranchisement  were  not  allowed 
me." 

Claire  parted  her  lips  as  if  to  speak,  hesitated,  and 
pressed  them  firmly  together  again.  The  shackling  of 


AYLMER    CLIMBS    AND    FALLS     227 

those  wrists  was  a  mere  blind  but  —  Aylmer  forbore  to 
communicate  the  fact  to  Miller.  Why  ? 

Miller  looked  at  her  keenly,  inquiringly. 

"Yes?"  he  said.  "You  want  further  information? 
Is  that  it?" 

"I  have  a  hundred  questions  to  ask,"  she  smiled. 
"How  did  you  get  this  concession?  Where  are  we? 
What  are  they  doing  with  us  ?  What  is  our  destination  ?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  again. 

"As  to  the  first  —  a  little  tact  was  all  that  was  neces- 
sary, though  tact,  indeed,  is  too  self-laudatory  a  word. 
Logic,  let  us  say.  I  showed  him  how  unnecessary  it  was 
to  antagonize  a  man  with  whom  he  would  eventually 
have  to  chaffer.  That  was  mere  common-sense,  was 
it  not?" 

"Chaffer?"  repeated  Aylmer.  He  considered  Miller; 
for  an  appreciable  moment  he  surveyed  him  silently. 
"That  implies  a  bargain,  and  to  bargain  there  must  be 
goods  to  sell.  Landon  has  none  which  will  tempt  me." 

"Liberty,"  suggested  Miller.  "Comfort,  and  not  for 
yourself  alone?" 

"With  Landon  I  do  not  bargain,"  said  Landon's 
cousin,  doggedly.  "I  have  set  myself  to  clean  our  name 
of  the  stigmas  with  which  he  had  bedaubed  it.  There 
are  no  terms  to  be  made." 

"You  sacrifice  yourself?"  said  Miller.  He  paused. 
"Have  you  the  right  to  sacrifice  others?" 

"No,"  said  Aylmer,  quietly.  "You  and  Miss  Van 
Arlen  must  do  exactly  what  seems  best  for  yourselves. 
That  is  a  deal  apart." 

Miller  shook  his  head. 

"No,  my  dear  Captain  Aylmer,"  he  answered.  "That 
is  exactly  what  it  is  not.  Landon's  terms  concern  us  all." 


228  THE    PURSUIT 

Claire  looked  at  him  anxiously. 

"He  has  told  you  them?"  she  cried.  "You  are  his 
messenger?" 

Miller  gave  a  little  bow  of  acquiescence. 

"They  are  bluntly  these,"  he  said.  "For  you  he  de- 
mands from  your  father  the  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand 
pounds.  For  your  nephew,  double  that  amount.  For 
myself,  I  must  apologize  for  placing  myself  next,  but  the 
financial  sequence  necessitates  it,  ten  thousand.  For  our 
friend  here  —  nothing,  or,  to  be  precise,  nothing  in  cash." 

She  did  not  flinch  as  he  mentioned  the  sums.  She 
merely  looked  contemptuous. 

"Is  that  all?"  she  asked.  "He  is  a  common  black- 
mailer?" 

Miller  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  said.    "Unfortunately  that  is  not  all." 

He  looked  directly  at  Aylmer. 

"It  rests  with  you,"  he  said  suddenly.  "He  wants 
from  you  —  silence.  What  has  happened  is  as  if  it  had 
never  been.  You  are  to  allow  him  to  take  his  place 
unquestioned  in  the  society  which  befits  his  rank.  He 
wishes  to  turn  a  new  leaf." 

Aylmer  met  the  look  with  blank  incredulity,  at  first. 
Then  his  lips  tightened  with  determination. 

"And  you?"  he  cried.  "You  are  taking  him  seri- 
ously? You  are  going  to  give  him  this  money?" 

Miller's  out-turned  palms  expressed  a  vague  pessimism. 

"Is  there  an  alternative?"  he  asked. 

Aylmer  laughed  harshly. 

"Blank  refusal:  what  is  his  answer  to  that?" 

The  dark  eyes  searched  the  two  expectant  faces  med- 
itatively. The  thin  prehensile  fingers  picked  at  a  loose 
splinter  in  the  bulkhead. 


AYLMER    CLIMBS   AND    FALLS     229 

"I  think  he  would  find  a  way,"  he  said  slowly.  "I 
think  —  in  fact  he  has  threatened  it  —  he  would  — 
hurt  you!" 

Aylmer  stared  at  the  gray  figure,  puzzled,  frowning. 
Miller  had  used  a  new  voice  for  the  two  last  syllables, 
a  voice  that  shook  ever  so  slightly  with  some  concealed 
emotion.  "Hurt  you,"  he  reiterated  sharply,  and  then 
darted  a  quick,  bird-like  glance  at  Aylmer  —  a  look  full 
of  interrogation. 

Claire  Van  Arlen  moved  forward  with  a  sudden 
startled  movement. 

"Hurt!"  she  cried.  "You  mean  that  he  would  use 
torture?" 

"I  think,"  said  Miller,  very  slowly,  "that  he  would  use 
anything." 

And  then  Aylmer  began  to  laugh  —  loudly,  gaily,  and 
quite  whole-heartedly.  Miller's  eyebrows  proclaimed 
their  owner's  astonishment. 

"Melodrama!"  explained  Aylmer,  still  chuckling.  "I 
remember  Landon  as  a  small  boy,  even  before  his  Eton 
days.  He  bred  these  leanings  then.  He  wasted  his 
pocket  money  on  'bloods,'  I  think  they  are  called  — 
penny  exhilarators  for  youths  of  tender  years,  crammed 
with  impossible  villainies.  And  now  he  is  going  to  tie 
flaming  splinters  between  my  fingers  and  squeeze  my 
thumbs  in  the  crack  of  the  door !  This  is  the  price  I  am 
to  pay  for  refusing  him  social  rehabilitation.  We  cannot 
congratulate  him  on  his  sense  of  humor,  we  really 
cannot." 

Miller  paused  over  his  reply,  looked  down,  looked  up, 
and  then  bridged  a  moment  of  hesitation  with  his  usual 
expedient  —  a  shrug. 

"For  the  moment  I  fear  he  has  n't  got  one,"  he  said. 


330  THE    PURSUIT 

"Possibly  not,"  agreed  Aylmer.  He  nodded  towards 
the  door.  "I'll  take  advantage  of  his  concessions  to 
come  and  see."  He  gave  another  little  confident  nod 
to  usher  the  other  two  before  him.  As  the  child  ran 
forward  he  caught  him  up  with  his  bound  hands  and 
raised  him  shoulder  high.  Then,  stooping,  he  passed 
out  at  Miller's  heels  on  to  the  deck.  He  was  laughing 
still,  laughing  up  at  the  boy  as  the  childish  fingers  steadied 
themselves  in  his  hair. 

"You  won't  be  able  to  do  that  when  they  shave  it  to 
put  the  pitch  plaster  on,"  he  cried.  "And  when  they  've 
stretched  me  on  the  rack,  I  shall  be  too  tall  to  carry 
you  out  of  a  cabin.  And  as  for  being  a  pig  man  again, 
and  carrying  a  spear  after  the  thumbscrews  have  been 
applied,  why,  it  simply  won't  bear  thinking  about ! " 

As  he  emerged  on  deck  he  looked  about  him  keenly. 
Muhammed's  was  the  first  figure  which  caught  his  eye. 
The  Moor  was  sitting  on  the  gunwale  opposite  the  com- 
panion, looking  shoreward.  And  the  shore,  to  Aylmer's 
surprise,  was  very  near  on  the  starboard  bow. 

Suddenly  he  realized  that  it  was  not  the  mainland  which 
he  saw,  but  an  archipelago  of  islands  girdled  with  reefs. 
Rockbound  channels  were  frames  to  pictures  of  the  dun 
red  African  strand  half  a  dozen  miles  away. 

He  looked  aft.  The  sun  was  not  far  from  its  setting, 
hanging  in  a  red  disc  above  the  distant  hills  of  Algeria. 
The  captain  was  at  the  tiller.  Beside  him  lounged 
Landon,  watching  a  gray-painted  torpedo  boat  which 
had  emerged  from  the  shelter  of  the  islands  and  was 
about  to  pass  close  under  their  stern.  The  gold  and 
crimson  of  the  Spanish  naval  ensign  floated  at  her 
flagstaff. 

Landon  looked  round  as  he  heard  the  footsteps  of  the 


AYLMER    CLIMBS    AND    FALLS     231 

newcomers  on  the  deck.  He  nodded  them  a  greeting 
without  changing  his  seat,  and  did  it  with  a  studied  air 
of  contempt. 

"Well?"  he  said  laconically. 

Aylmer  was  silent.  His  glance  traveled  over  Landon's 
head  to  examine  the  war  vessel  as  it  passed. 

The  captain  grunted  something  in  an  undertone. 
Landon  laughed,  and  held  up  the  first  and  fourth  fingers 
of  his  right  hand  horn-wise. 

"The  good  Luigi  advises  me  to  avert  the  evil  eye," 
he  explained.  "Does  that  glance  of  yours  threaten  us, 
my  affectionate  cousin,  does  it?" 

Aylmer  sat  back  upon  the  boom  and  looked  at  the 
other  squarely.  The  child  scrambled  from  his  shoulder 
and  went  back  along  the  deck  to  stand  at  Muhammed's 
knee.  But  the  Moor,  after  a  quick,  welcoming  smile, 
showed  no  further  recognition  of  his  presence.  His 
glance,  the  glances,  indeed,  of  all  on  board,  centered  in 
the  meeting  of  the  two  who  eyed  each  other  across  the 
slant  of  Signer  Luigi's  tiller. 

Aylmer  made  a  motion  of  his  head  towards  Miller. 

"You  sent  this  man  to  bargain  with  me?"  he  said. 

"No,"  said  Landon.  "I  sent  him  to  tell  you  my 
terms." 

He  laughed;  he  looked  Aylmer  insolently  in  the  face 
and  laughed  again. 

"The  thick-headedness  of  you  is  what  amuses  me," 
he  said.  "The  crass  incapability  of  understanding  your 
own  case.  Order,  respectability,  good  feeling,  as  you  call 
it  —  these  have  been  propping  you  all  your  life.  You 
don't  understand  —  how  should  you  ?  —  what  it  is  to  be 
in  the  hands  of  a  man  who  gives  not  a  jot  for  any  one  of 
them."  He  snapped  his  fingers.  "  Not  that !"  he  added. 


a32  THE    PURSUIT 

"For  honor,  standing,  the  esteem  of  my  fellows  I  give 
nothing  —  nothing ! " 

"And  yet  chaffer  to  obtain  them,"  said  Aylmer,  drily. 

"I  don't  chaffer;  I  take,"  said  Landon.  "I  am  re- 
quiring them  as  mere  stage  properties  necessary  to  the 
carrying  out  of  my  other  purposes.  Intrinsically  they 
have  no  value  for  me." 

"Unfortunately  for  you,  you  have  neither  the  weapons 
to  win  them  nor  the  means  to  buy  them,"  said  Aylmer. 

"Haven't  I?"  said  Landon,  slowly.  "Haven't 
I?"  He  rose  from  his  seat  and  came  a  pace  or  two 
nearer.  "Listen  to  me,  you  —  you  blazing  fool!"  he 
snarled.  "  I  have  you  here  to  break,  as  I  will.  See  that 
you  don't  goad  me  into  doing  it,  for  the  mere  pleasure 
of  seeing  you  squirm.  You  give  me  your  promise  to 
accept  me,  push  me  forward,  vouch  for  me,  in  the  rotten 
mob  you  call  society,  or,  by  God,  you'll  be  sorry  before 
I  've  done  with  you ! " 

Aylmer  still  stared  relentlessly  into  the  other's  eyes. 

"You  haven't  a  thing  that'll  touch  me  —  not  a 
single  thing!"  he  said.  "My  life?  Do  you  think  that 
has  a  value  for  me  above  the  hope  of  clearing  you  from 
a  decent  family's  path  —  into  the  gutter ! " 

Landon  went  white  with  passion.     His  fingers  worked. 

"  By  the  Lord ! "  he  said,  and  his  eyes  shot  menacing 
lightnings  towards  Miller,  not  towards  his  cousin;  "by 
the  Lord,  am  I  to  keep  my  hands  off  him  —  after  that?" 

There  was  a  sort  of  appeal  in  the  question.  There 
was  malignance,  there  was  red  anger,  but  there  was  en- 
treaty, the  cry  of  a  slave  to  a  master.  Claire  recognized 
it;  so  did  Aylmer,  with  amazement. 

They  both  looked  at  the  gray  man. 

Miller's  gesture  was  all  humility,  all  dejection. 


AYLMER    CLIMBS   AND    FALLS     233 

"Don't  exasperate  him,  Captain  Aylmer,"  he  pleaded. 
"He  has  weapons ;  he  has,  indeed ! " 

Landon  laughed  malevolently. 

"By  God,  I  have!"  he  cried.  "Your  thick  body 
and  your  ox's  nerves  ?  You  can  pit  them  against  me,  if 
you  like !  What  about  your  finer  feelings,  as  I  suppose 
you  'd  call  them?  What  about  your  honor?  And  — 
what  about  —  hers?" 

He  shot  the  question  out  fiercely,  insistently,  pointing 
at  Claire. 

A  sudden  dryness  coated  Aylmer's  lips. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded.  He  rose,  too, 
towering  over  Landon  from  the  full  height  of  his  stature 
and  that,  indeed,  seemed  to  have  added  inches  to  itself 
since  the  other  spoke. 

But  Landon,  drunk  with  venom,  did  not  flinch. 

"Look  at  her!"  he  cried,  still  pointing.  "Look  at 
her!  And  if  you  defy  me,  you  shall  have  something 
more  to  look  at  before  long!  I  '11  deal  with  her;  I  '11  let 
these  men  have  their  will  of  her;  I  '11  drag  her  through 
filth  enough  —  I  '11  — " 

His  voice  broke  hideously  into  a  shriek  of  pain.  Aylmer 
had  flung  off  the  lashings  on  his  wrists  and  continued 
the  movement,  as  it  were,  into  one  direct,  smashing  blow 
on  Landon's  mouth ! 

And  Landon  fell  as  a  log  falls,  stark,  inert,  his  head 
meeting  the  tiller  end  in  his  fall  with  frightful  emphasis. 
He  rolled  into  the  scuppers  at  the  captain's  feet,  bloody, 
disfigured,  unconscious  as  the  deck  itself. 

There  was  a  rush  from  the  two  deck  hands.  Mu- 
hammed  came  flying  aft.  Aylmer  dodged,  landed  his 
fist  on  the  Moor's  temple,  evaded  the  hands  stretched 
out  for  him,  and  sprang  for  the  rigging.  Within  the 


234  THE    PURSUIT 

space  of  seconds  he  was  standing  upon  the  great  cross 
spar  of  the  lateen,  leaning  against  the  mast,  and  waving 
his  arms  in  semaphore-wise  towards  the  gray  stern  of 
the  torpedo  boat  as  she  slid  away  against  the  disc  of  the 
setting  sun. 

The  captain  yelled  aloud  with  fury. 

"He  is  signalling  to  them!"  he  screamed.  "God's 
Mother!  If  they  see  him  we're  undone!" 

A  sudden  light  gleamed  in  Claire's  eyes,  a  light  of 
hope,  of  relief  and  —  bright  above  them  all  —  admira- 
tion. This  was  a  man.  Her  woman's  blood  quickened 
to  the  knowledge  that  his  man's  strength  had  been  used 
brutally,  splendidly,  for  her.  She  cried  aloud  her  en- 
couragement. She  waved  her  hand. 

"Make  them  see  you,  make  them!"  she  called. 
She  beat  her  open  hand  upon  the  taffrail  in  her  passion. 

The  gunboat  slowed.  Half  a  dozen  signal  flags 
rushed  up  to  her  peak.  The  white  foam  of  her  wake 
disappeared  slowly  with  the  stopping  of  her  engines. 
Captain  Luigi  cried  out  again ;  he  addressed  invectives 
to  things  terrestrial  and  to  celestial  things  apostrophes 
at  a  set  value  in  candles,  using  both  forms  of  eloquence 
impartially  to  goad  his  hesitating  deck  hands  to  pull 
Aylmer  from  his  eyrie  at  the  risk  of  their  lives.  The 
mariners  shook  their  heads. 

And  then,  at  the  captain's  ear,  harshly,  snippingly, 
between  his  teeth,  Miller  spoke. 

"Let  go  the  halliards!"  he  hissed.  "Let  go  the 
halliards!" 

And  Claire  Van  Arlen  heard. 

She  cried  out  to  Aylmer  warningly,  shrill  in  her  despair. 
He  did  not  hear  or,  perhaps,  in  the  intentness  of  his 
task,  did  not  heed.  She  cried  out  again. 


AYLMER    CLIMBS   AND    FALLS     235 

Too  late ! 

The  two  men  flung  themselves  upon  the  ropes  which 
held  the  great  lateen  yard  in  place,  slacked  them,  payed 
them  out  suddenly  a  couple  of  yards.  Aylmer  tottered, 
rocked  forward,  and  then  maintained  his  hand  hold 
upon  the  mast.  But  this  time  the  men  reversed  the 
operation.  With  a  tremendous  effort  they  jerked  the 
ropes.  The  spar  leaped  upwards ! 

And  Aylmer  shot  into  the  air  and  landed  stunningly 
upon  the  planking  at  Claire  Van  Arlen's  feet. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

FATE  STAYS   HER   HAND 

RESCUE,  liberty,  and,  not  least,  triumph  over 
Landon!  These  were  all  possibilities,  even  prob- 
abilities, clear  to  Claire  Van  Arlen's  intelligence  as  she 
bent  over  Aylmer  —  clear,  but  undefined.  Yet  the  one 
outstanding,  engrossing  thought  was  that  her  champion 
had  fallen  in  the  moment  of  victory.  The  blood  was 
flowing  from  a  deep  cut  on  his  forehead;  he  was  un- 
conscious; the  color  had  ebbed  from  his  very  lips.  An 
agony  of  apprehension  seized  upon  her.  He  was  dead ! 
He  was  dead ! 

And  then  —  the  pulse  of  that  relief  will  be  quick  in 
her  to  her  dying  day  —  his  eyes  opened,  he  stirred.  He 
did  more  than  stir ;  he  made  efforts  to  rise. 

She  held  him  masterfully;  her  voice  was  stern  in  her 
command  to  him  to  lie  still.  And  he  looked  up  at  her 
with  an  incredulous  glance  in  which  humor  had  its  part. 
He  smiled  —  a  puzzled  smile.  Suddenly  remembrance 
came  back  to  him  and  his  bewilderment  became  anxiety. 

"The  gunboat?"  he  asked  hoarsely.  "They  saw 
me,  they  were  slowing  down!" 

She  nodded  silently  as  she  looked  about  her.  They  had 
floated  within  the  shadow  cast  by  the  towering  bulk  of  the 
island  nearest  them.  The  last  red  rim  of  the  sun's  disc 
had  passed  below  the  horizon.  The  dusk  was  gathering. 
A  mile  away  the  gunboat  was  turning  ponderously. 


FATE  STAYS  HER  HAND     237 

Rapidly  she  told  him  what  she  saw  and  he  nodded  a 
satisfied  assent. 

"They're  done,  now,"  he  whispered  triumphantly. 
"We  have  them  in  a  cleft  stick!" 

But  Fate  —  listening  Fate  —  shook  her  head. 

It  was  Muhammed  who  had  taken  command  of  the 
situation,  Muhammed  who  roared  his  orders  to  hoist 
again  the  half-lowered  sail,  to  let  drift  the  dingy  from 
the  stern,  to  stand  by  the  halliards  for  a  tack.  He 
leaped  upon  the  tiller  and  flung  the  boat's  prow  round 
to  point  directly  for  the  land. 

The  freshening  breeze  from  the  northwest  swelled 
out  the  great  sail  as  the  panting  sailors  swung  the  yard 
aslant  the  mast.  The  water  sang  and  bubbled  from 
the  prow.  The  Santa  Margarita  leaped  landwards 
like  a  living  thing,  straight  for  the  cliffs  of  shadowing 
stone. 

Captain  Luigi,  completely  unnerved  by  the  sudden 
crisis  to  which  events  had  soared,  wailed  protests  with- 
out attempting  interference. 

"  I  call  you  to  witness  that  I  said  he  had  the  evil  eye ! " 
he  cried.  "  I  call  you  to  witness !  Capture  or  destruc- 
tion —  there  are  no  two  ways  to  it !" 

"There  is  One  God  and  one  road  to  safety  for  a 
brave  man,"  answered  Muhammed,  as  he  leaned  his 
strength  upon  the  helm.  "They  call  it  courage.  Run 
out  the  French  flag,  amigo!  They  dare  not  fire  on 
that,  here,  in  debatable  waters,  for  all  their  claim  to 
these  islands  as  within  the  grip  of  Spain." 

A  sudden  pang  of  doubt  shook  Claire.  The  gunboat 
was  completing  its  turning  movement  —  slowly  —  ah, 
how  slowly !  And  yet  ?  How  could  the  felucca,  with  no 
more  than  a  fresh  breeze  to  rely  on,  hope  to  evade  that 


a38  THE    PURSUIT 

greyhound  of  the  seas?  A  spout  of  gray  smoke  burst 
from  the  gray  painted  sides;  the  sound  of  a  cannon 
shot  echoed  down  to  them  among  the  crags. 

Muhammed  laughed. 

"Blank  cartridge,"  he  said  derisively.  "Within  five 
minutes  their  faces  will  be  as  blank.  Sons  of  dirt,  I 
spit  upon  you ! " 

The  girl's  apprehension  grew.  Confidence  rang  in 
the  Moor's  voice.  He  smiled  as  one  who  had  already 
triumphed.  And  still  the  felucca  drove  shorewards, 
relentlessly  towards  the  bare  face  of  stone. 

But  the  torpedo  boat  was  gaining  speed.  The  white 
lift  of  the  foam  was  veiling  her  bows ;  she  ripped  through 
the  waters  as  a  blade  rips  through  calico,  directly, 
cleanly,  tossing  aside  the  waves.  Another  few  minutes 
—  seven  —  six  —  perhaps  less  —  and  she  must  be  along- 
side. And  the  island  cliff  seemed  to  overhang  them  now ; 
the  great  sail  flapped  as  the  breeze  beat  back  from  the 
sheer  rock  against  its  breadth. 

A  second  time  Muhammed  roared  his  orders.  The 
sailors  shifted  the  huge  spar  around  the  mast,  swinging 
it  as  on  a  pivot.  The  Santa  Margarita  came  about, 
dancingly. 

The  rush  and  boil  of  breaking  foam  on  the  seaward 
bow  caught  Claire's  ear.  She  glanced  over  the  taffrail. 

A  comber  was  breaking  on  a  great  tooth  of  black 
rock  within  half  a  cable's  length  of  the  boat.  Not  far 
ahead  she  saw  the  white  after-spume  of  another  —  and 
beyond  that  a  third  —  a  fourth  —  countless  ones.  They 
were  within  a  very  labyrinth  of  reefs.  And  Muhammed, 
swerving  the  tiller  delicately  from  side  to  side,  steered 
unshaken,  his  eyes  piercing  into  the  swiftly  coming 
gloom,  the  smile  of  victory  growing  round  his  lips. 


FATE    STAYS    HER    HAND  239 

She  understood,  and  before  she  turned  her  eyes  astern 
knew  hope  was  lost.  The  torpedo  boat  was  slackening 
speed;  the  cream  of  her  wake  began  to  slide  past  her 
sides  and  swirl  round  her  bow  as  she  slowed,  went  astern, 
halted  on  the  lips  of  danger,  and  then  reluctantly  turned. 

A  yell  went  up  from  the  felucca  as  the  crew  saw  them- 
selves saved  —  a  yell  of  defiance. 

Again  the  gray  jet  of  smoke  spurted  from  the  gray 
port,  and  this  time  the  background  of  purple  dusk  showed 
the  red  tongue  of  the  flame.  The  sound  of  the  report 
reached  them,  but  not  so  swiftly  as  another  sound  — 
a  nerve-rending  menace  which  shrieked  in  their  very 
ears,  as  it  seemed,  and  passed,  to  thunder  crashingly 
against  the  forehead  of  the  crag.  And  again  Muhammed 
laughed  and  showed  his  white  teeth,  and  roared  to  his 
fellows  to  swing  the  yard-arm  about  as  he  spun  the  boat 
between  two  waiting  jaws  of  rock  and  sent  her  bounding 
out  into  the  open  before  the  lash  of  the  favoring  breeze. 
And  night  fell  over  them  —  for  Claire  Van  Arlen  the 
hopeless  night  of  despair. 

She  looked  up  to  find  Miller  standing  beside  her, 
looking  down  at  Aylmer's  face  with  sombre,  inquiring 
eyes.  And  she  realized  for  the  first  time  that  in  that 
face  the  eyes  were  closed  again,  the  lips  bloodless,  the 
cheeks  sunken.  She  gave  an  exclamation;  she  bent 
and  stanched  the  blood  which  still  flowed  from  the 
wounded  temple. 

Miller  picked  up  a  bucket,  seized  a  rope,  attached  it 
to  the  handle,  and  slung  it  overboard.  He  placed  it, 
brimmed  with  water,  at  her  feet.  She  looked  up  again, 
eyed  him  silently  and  without  thanks,  dipped  her  hand- 
kerchief in  the  water  and  laved  Aylmer's  face.  And 
Miller  himself  remained  silent,  as  if  he  would  force  the 


24o  THE    PURSUIT 

first  comment  from  her,  as  if  he  probed  for  information 
by  mere  inertness.  Had  he  been  heard?  She  guessed 
that  he  was  asking  himself  —  and  by  force  of  silence, 
her  —  this  question. 

A  sudden  instinct  not  to  betray  herself  gripped  her. 
Aylmer?  Was  not  he  an  example  of  a  like  reticence? 
He  had  not  revealed  the  fact  that  his  hands  were  free 
till  circumstances  had  revealed  it,  with  a  vengeance. 
She  would  follow  this  example  and  so  tell  nothing.  She 
pillowed  Aylmer's  head  gently  upon  a  coil  of  rope  and 
stood  up. 

"The  hope  of  rescue  is  gone  then?"  she  said  quietly. 
"There  is  no  chance  of  their  rounding  the  island,  and 
encountering  us  later?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  doubtfully. 

"They  seldom  carry  search-lights  —  craft  of  that  size, 
in  the  Spanish  navy,  at  any  rate.  No,  Muhammed's 
seamanship  has  taken  the  trick  this  time.  Spanish  cap- 
tains do  not  waste  coal  lavishly,  and  what,  after  all,  have 
they  to  go  on.  Merely  the  words  '  Help !  Prisoners ! ' 
It  might  easily  have  been  the  vagary  of  some  half-drunken 
sponge-fisher." 

She  looked  at  him  keenly. 

"That  was  what  he  signalled?"  she  said.  "You 
understood  that?" 

"I  know  the  international  code,"  he  said  simply.  He 
looked  down  at  Aylmer  again.  "His  escapade  has  not 
improved  our  position,"  he  added.  "When  Landon 
comes  to  himself  - 

"He  is  not  seriously  wounded,  then?"  she  cried  in 
quick  disappointment.  "I  had  hoped  —  I  had 
prayed  — 

"What?"  he  asked,  as  she  hesitated. 


FATE    STAYS    HER    HAND  241 

"That  he  had  been  killed,"  she  answered  slowly.  "Is 
there  any  escape  from  the  net  of  villainy  in  which  he  has 
us  all  entrapped?" 

He  looked  at  her  silently,  and  the  dawn  of  a  hard 
smile  glimmered  about  his  lips.  He  pointed  aft. 

"Will  you  come  and  look?"  he  said.  "Perhaps  I 
have  undervalued  your  prayers.  I  am  no  surgeon,  but 
I  would  wager  a  larger  sum  on  his  reviving  than  I  would 
on  the  recovery  of  —  this." 

He  touched  Aylmer  with  the  point  of  his  foot.  There 
was  no  ungentleness  in  the  action,  but  it  seemed  instinc- 
tive —  the  gesture  of  an  autocrat  or  of  a  dictator,  seeing 
all  men  under  his  feet. 

She  gave  a  gesture  of  assent  and  followed  him  into 
the  gloom  cast  by  the  sail  upon  the  stern.  Landon  lay 
within  a  foot  of  where  he  had  fallen,  his  head  pillowed 
upon  a  tarpaulin.  Muhammed  had  relinquished  the 
tiller  to  Captain  Luigi  and  was  dropping  aguardiente 
between  the  set  lips  and  the  color  was  stealing  slowly 
back  into  the  cheeks  which  had  been  as  pale  as  Aylmer's 
own.  Landon's  eyes  opened  as  Claire  reached  and  stood 
beside  him. 

They  met  hers  at  first  without  recognition.  Then  a 
gleam  of  feeling  flashed  in  them  —  a  gleam  which  grew 
in  fierceness  as  he  gazed. 

"I  remember!"  he  muttered.  He  made  a  feeble 
effort  to  rise,  which  Muhammed  prevented  by  the  steady 
pressure  of  a  hand.  "  By  the  Lord,  he  shall  pay  for  it  — 
and  you ! " 

And  then,  meeting  that  glance,  and  stricken  by  the 
revulsion  from  the  hope  which  the  events  of  the  last  few 
minutes  had  engendered,  Claire  surrendered  to  a  sense 
of  despair.  What  could  the  future  hold  for  her  except  — 

16 


242  THE    PURSUIT 

the  worst?  As  far  as  she  was  concerned,  the  deal  with 
fate  was  finished  and  she  had  lost  finally.  But  even 
despair  could  not  crush  the  maternal,  protective  instinct 
which  had  sprung  into  being  in  the  silo  of  El  Dibh,  which 
had  grown  into  full  flower  through  the  last  dark  hours 
in  the  lazaret.  She  spoke  quickly,  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment. 

"Him  you  cannot  hurt,"  she  answered.  " He  is  escap- 
ing you;  he  is  dying." 

Landon  struggled  under  Muhammed's  restraining 
hand. 

"Is  he?"  he  cried,  looking  at  Miller.  "Is  he?  He  's 
not  going  before  I  get  my  hands  on  him!  For  God's 
sake,  man,  say  he  is  n't !  Say  it  is  n't  true !" 

Miller  shrugged  his  shoulders  apathetically. 

"We  '11  do  all  we  can,"  he  temporized. 

Landon  gnashed  his  teeth  and  burst  into  hysterical 
weeping. 

"Ah,  but  I  wanted  to  have  my  will  of  him !"  he  cried. 
"It's  he  and  all  the  thousands  like  him  that  have  put 
me  here!  The  cursed  hypocrites!  I  slipped;  I  went 
against  their  code,  and  they  jostled  each  other  to  trample 
me  when  I  was  down!  And  I?"  He  shook  his  fist 
weakly  into  the  night.  "I?  I  was  no  worse  than  the 
best  of  them.  I  was  only  myself  —  the  natural  man  — 
and  they  flung  me  out !  And  I  could  have  repaid  every 
stab,  every  kick,  on  him  —  on  him !" 

He  writhed  and  then  suddenly  steadied  himself. 
Again  his  eyes  focussed  evilly  upon  Claire. 

"Go  to  him!"  he  ordered.  "Go  to  him  and  do 
your  utmost  for  him !  Bring  him  round  and  I  '11  be 
light  with  you ;  I  '11  save  you  —  the  worst  of  it.  Let 
him  slip  through  your  fingers,  and  by  every  devil 


FATE  STAYS  HER  HAND     243 

in  Hell  I  '11  make  you  pay  double,  double,  and  double 
that !  " 

She  turned  from  him  silently  and  in  turning  made  a 
little  stagger.  Miller's  hand  slipped  under  her  elbow; 
for  an  instant  she  found  that  he  was  supporting  her.  She 
stirred  away  from  him  in  uncontrollable  disgust. 

A  moment  later  she  had  pulled  herself  together;  she 
murmured  a  disjointed  sentence  of  thanks,  and  moved 
away  towards  the  scuppers  where  Aylmer  still  lay  mo- 
tionless, realizing,  as  she  reached  it,  that  the  gray  man 
was  still  at  her  side.  He  was  looking  at  her  keenly,  but 
with  an  impassive  gaze  which  told  her  nothing. 

She  bent  her  face  to  the  white  lips.  Faintly,  but  still 
distinct,  she  felt  the  breath  pass  from  them.  She  rose 
with  a  little  gesture  of  appeal. 

"You  must  help  me,"  she  said.  "We  must  get  him 
below." 

For  a  moment  he  hesitated.  Then  he  passed  his  arms 
behind  the  other's  shoulders  and  lifted  him.  She  bent 
and  took  his  knees.  Staggering  again  at  first,  but  with 
growing  steadiness,  she  helped  to  half  carry,  half  drag 
him  to  the  companion,  into  the  cabin,  to  lay  him,  at  last, 
on  the  floor  of  the  lazaret. 

She  drew  off  her  jacket  and  arranged  it  under  his  head. 

She  rose  and  looked  at  Miller. 

"Now,  if  they  will  give  me  food  and  water,  I  will  do 
what  I  can,"  she  said  simply.  "Quiet  is  his  best  chance, 
absolute  quiet." 

He  gave  a  little  bow  of  assent 

"We  must  hope  for  the  best,"  he  answered.  "You 
must  rely  on  me  all  you  can ;  come  into  Landon's  notice 
as  little  as  possible.  I  will  use  my  influences,  such  as 
they  are,  for  the  best." 


244  THE    PURSUIT 

The  hot  throb  of  repulsion  —  of  hate,  even  —  throbbed 
up  in  her,  knowing,  as  she  knew,  that  he  was  false  to  her, 
but  she  kept  her  face  unmoved.  She  nodded. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  quietly,  "unless  —  you  think 
my  duty  is  to  let  him  —  die?" 

His  imperturbable  face  lost  its  calm  for  a  moment. 
He  was  genuinely  startled. 

"But  no!"  he  cried  quickly.  "Things  are  not  as  bad 
as  that!  The  threats  he  used?  Those  were  the  results 
of  shock,  of  delirium.  I  would  prevent  that  —  I." 

She  looked  at  him  very  steadily. 

"Yes?"  she  said.  "You  —  a  prisoner,  like  myself. 
How?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  vaguely. 

"He  is  open  to  reason,"  he  said.  " He  could  not  afford 
it;  I  could  make  that  plain  to  him,  I  have  every  assur- 
ance that  I  could." 

He  was  looking  at  her  searchingly  —  frowning,  show- 
ing dissatisfaction  with  himself  for  his  slip.  She  was 
content  to  let  it  pass. 

"Thank  you,"  she  answered.  "You  give  me  hope," 
and  truly  enough  a  wild,  incredulous  hope  had  just 
arisen  in  her  heart,  for  her  gaze  had  been  still  on  Aylmer's 
pallid  face  at  her  feet. 

The  gray  man  still  hesitated  and  then,  with  the  air  of 
one  who  has  probed  an  enigma  the  solution  of  which 
still  escaped  him,  turned  and  passed  into  the  cabin.  She 
heard  his  footsteps  echo  along  the  deck  over  her  head. 

Aylmer's  eyes  opened,  and  then  one  of  them  closed 
again,  in  a  wink ! 

She  laid  her  finger  warningly  upon  her  lips.  She  bent 
till  her  lips  touched  his  ear. 

"I   knew   it  —  I   knew   it!"    she  breathed  joyfully. 


FATE  STAYS  HER  HAND     245 

"Ah,  but  you  nearly  spoilt  it  all.  You  smiled  —  I  saw 
the  beginning  of  it  —  when  he  made  his  slip,  and  he 
might  have  seen  it,  too ! " 

He  smiled  again. 

"The  renegade!"  he  whispered.  "I  knew  it  before 
this  last  hour;  I  saw  it  in  his  face  when  Landon  came 
here,  before.  They  have  some  understanding,  those 
two.  And  it  was  he  who  betrayed  me  —  with  his  sug- 
gestion about  the  halliards.  I  heard  him,  before  they 
let  them  go!" 

"And  I!"  she  answered.  "He  is  against  us;  we  are 
alone,  against  them  all!" 

"Where  does  his  profit  come  in?"  he  asked,  wonder- 
ingly.  "What  arguments  has  Landon  used;  how  can 
a  man  like  him  be  the  gainer?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  One  has  met  him  —  in  Gibraltar  —  in  society,"  she 
said.  "But  do  we  know  anything  of  him;  does  any  one 
know?" 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"No,"  he  said,  at  last.  "  No  one  knows.  I  have  heard 
it  spoken  of,  his  unknowableness,  but  no  one  has  supplied 
a  key  to  the  mystery.  I  think  —  I  think  if  we  win  out  of 
this  I  must  set  machinery  to  work  in  Gibraltar  —  to  find 
out." 

"  If ! "  she  repeated  sadly.     "  If ! " 

His  lips  set  firmly. 

"Not  if,"  he  answered  resolutely.  "When!  Do  you 
believe  that  men  like  Landon  win!  You,  yourself? 
Did  n't  you  tell  him  that  he  would  have  to  pay,  eventually. 
I  'm  going  to  present  the  bill  —  I.  I  know  it ;  I  have  it 
as  a  conviction ! " 

Her  eyes  glowed  down  at  him.     The  dead  roots  of 


246  THE    PURSUIT 

hope  began  to  sprout  in  her  heart.  The  down-hearted, 
the  faineant  f  Has  any  natural  woman  a  use  for  such  an 
one  ?  No !  Nature  made  you  the  leader,  they  cry  to  the 
male.  For  God's  sake,  behave  as  one ! 

She  offered  no  protest,  no  comment.  She  did  not 
question  his  faith;  her  matter-of-factness  only  asked  for 
detail. 

"Meanwhile?"  she  questioned.     "Meanwhile?" 

He  made  a  little  grimace. 

"It  is  a  gray  prospect,"  he  admitted.     "I  lie  here, 
unconscious.     I  lie  physically  —  and  by  implication  — 
morally.    I  feign  myself  as  one  on  the  lip  of  extinction. 
I  wait!" 

She  felt  vaguely  disappointed. 

"You  wait  —  till  when?"  she  asked. 

He  smiled. 

"Till  a  very  old  friend  comes  by,"  he  answered.  "She 
has  seldom  failed  me,  and  then  my  own  laggardness  was 
at  fault.  They  call  her  Opportunity." 


CHAPTER  XXH 

THE  PRISON 

WHAT  is  to  be  the  end?"  asked  Claire,  suddenly, 
wearily.  "What  is  to  be  the  end?" 

Aylmer  looked  up  from  his  pallet  on  the  floor  —  looked 
at  the  girl  —  looked  at  the  walls  of  bare  masonry  — 
looked  at  the  shaft  of  sunlight  which  slanted  through  the 
barred  window.  For  eight  and  forty  hours  he  had  lain 
there,  shamming,  shamming,  shamming.  For  three  days 
previous  to  his  being  brought  to  that  place,  he  had  lain 
as  motionless  in  the  lazaret  of  the  Santa  Margarita. 

Conceive  it  —  you  who  walk  abroad  as  you  list ! 
Nearly  a  week  of  inaction,  when  all  the  time  your  blood 
is  coursing  healthily  in  your  veins,  your  feet  itch  for  the 
road,  and  your  wrath,  above  all,  is  suffering  a  continual 
fever  for  which  no  remedy  is  presently  available. 

The  picture,  however,  had  its  other  side.  Could  he, 
in  any  other  circumstances,  have  advanced  so  far  in  in- 
timacy with  his  companion?  When,  in  the  ordinary  in- 
tercourse of  uneventful  life,  would  the  barrier  which  she 
had  raised  against  him  have  been  flung  down  ?  Where 
else  than  in  this  island  prison  of  Salicudi  would  he  have 
seen  the  glorious  vision  of  hope  over  that  barrier's  crum- 
bling walls  ?  Dwelling  on  these  matters,  he  was  able  to 
answer  her  pessimism  with  a  genuine  smile. 

"WTien  I  first  met  you  I  told  myself  that  I  should  have 
to  play  a  waiting  game,"  he  said.  "Well,  it  is  proving 
itself  so,  literally." 


248  THE    PURSUIT 

She  flushed  faintly. 

"You  must  forgive  me,"  she  sighed.  "We  women  are 
not  taught  to  wait.  And  in  America  we  are  allowed  to 
be  petulant,  you  know."  She  smiled.  "You  Britishers 
have  more  sense  of  discipline.  But  an  end  ?  Surely  you 
yourself  must  want  to  see  one?  How  long  are  you  to  lie 
there,  paralyzed  for  action  t" 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  his  eyes  were 
shadowed. 

"It  is  I  who  must  ask  forgiveness,"  he  said  at  last. 
"Perhaps  —  I  hardly  realized  what  it  is  —  for  you." 

A  throb  of  compunction  stung  her.  She  gave  a  little 
cry  of  protest. 

"For  me?  It  is  a  thousand  times  worse  for  you.  I 
have  liberty,  in  a  sense.  They  let  me  walk  abroad,  even, 
at  times  —  I  am  not  interfered  with  —  I  can  look  out  to 
sea  and  —  and  hope.  I  have  you  to  lean  on.  But  you  ? 
You  lie  within  these  four  walls  and  think,  and  think. 
Your  only  support  is  within  yourself.  And  I  am  a  drag 
upon  you." 

And  then  she  turned  her  face  from  the  sudden  passion 
in  his  eyes. 

"Claire!"  he  said.    "Claire!" 

She  did  not  answer  in  words.  She  made  a  little  gesture 
which  seemed  to  plead  for  forbearance,  for  a  postpone- 
ment to  an  inevitable  but  far  distant  morrow.  She  rose 
and  walked  to  the  window. 

"There  is  a  ship  passing  now,"  she  reported.  "Half 
a  mile  from  land.  I  can  see  her  flag  —  the  Union  Jack. 
A  Newcastle  collier,  I  expect,  by  her  bulk  and  her  grime. 
I  suppose  there  are  a  score  of  unwashed  deck  hands  and 
heavers  in  her  forecastle  who  would  sweep  this  island 
bare  of  the  human  vermin  who  infest  it  if  we  could  let 


THE    PRISON  349 

them  know  our  need,  if  we  could  signal  —  wave  —  act ! 
Act  ?  But  to  go  on  waiting  ?  To  have  not  so  much  as  a 
plan?" 

He  rose  cautiously. 

"There  is  no  one  in  sight?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  right  and  left,  keenly  suspicious. 

"  No,"  she  said,  at  last.  "  I  watched  Luigi  back  to  the 
houses  after  he  left  our  food.  He  and  half  a  dozen  more 
are  at  the  landing  place.  Two  or  three  are  on  board  the 
felucca,  working  her  with  sweeps  into  the  shelter  of  the 
little  breakwater.  Mr.  Miller?  He  is  sitting  on  a 
boulder,  watching  —  and  like  us,  I  suppose  —  waiting. 
What  are  we  all  doing  but  that  ?  Fate  is  to  be  the  arbiter 
for  all  of  us.  We  can  offer  no  interference." 

He  came  up  beside  her,  keeping  in  the  shadow  and 
peering  cautiously  between  the  bars.  His  glance  was 
directed  at  the  Santa  Margarita  as  the  toilers  at  the  sweeps 
slowly  worked  her  to  her  moorings. 

"They  are  making  it  the  more  difficult  for  us,"  he  said 
slowly.  "While  she  lay  out  there  in  the  open,  she  repre- 
sented the  weapon  with  which  we  might  have  defeated 
Fate,  if  Fate  is  against  us.  Inside  the  breakwater  the 
edge  of  the  weapon  is  blunt.  Did  Fate  read  my 
thoughts?" 

She  looked  at  him  anxiously. 

"You  have  had  a  plan?"  she  asked.  "You  have  not 
been  leaving  all  to  chance?" 

"Wind  —  that  is  all  I  asked,"  he  said.  "A  storm,  a 
moonless  night,  and  a  little  luck.  If  I  could  have  got  on 
board  the  felucca  with  you  and  cut  her  from  her  moor- 
ings, we  would  have  played  a  deal  with  Fate  then.  We 
would  have  enlisted  her  on  our  side,  to  take  us  where 
she  willed." 


a5o  THE    PURSUIT 

Her  eyes  grew  vivid  with  hope  and  with  anxiety. 

"But  to  get  on  board?  We  are  locked  in  at  night, 
bolted.  And  those  dogs  of  theirs  are  loose. " 

"That  is  it  —  they  are  loose,"  he  said.  "A  few  hand- 
fuls  of  food  saved  and  we  can  attract  them  to  the  window, 
and  they  will  be  quiet  enough  when  they  are  fed.  It  is 
merely  a  question  of  the  getting  out." 

"And  how?" 

He  pointed  to  a  corner  of  the  unmorticed  wall. 

"Their  bars  are  sound  enough,  their  bolts  are  out  of 
reach  of  our  tampering.  But  the  building  itself?  Its 
foundations  date  from  the  days  of  Augustus,  as  likely 
as  not.  At  night,  while  you  slept,  I  tried  its  stability, 
course  by  course.  It  was  in  that  corner  that  I  found 
the  weak  spot.  The  lower  stone  I  can  remove  at  will. 
The  one  above  it  will  fall  when  the  support  of  the  first 
is  removed.  And  I  put  pressure  enough  on  to  the  outer 
stones  to  know  that  a  strong  effort  will  thrust  them 
away.  The  road  is  open,  when  we  choose  to  take  it." 

She  clapped  her  hands  softly.     Her  face  glowed. 

"Why  not  now?"  she  cried.  "Why  not  choose  the 
passing  of  a  ship  and  then  signal  —  as  you  signalled  to 
the  torpedo  boat?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"A  warship  is  one  thing,"  he  objected,  "a  merchant 
ship  another.  We  should  be  poising  our  all  on  the  in- 
telligence of  a  look-out-man  who  would  be  scanning 
the  water,  not  the  land,  or  of  a  third  officer  who  might 
not  know  the  code  international." 

She  sighed. 

"So  we  wait,"  she  said  despondently. 

"So  we  wait,"  he  agreed.  "But  not  for  long."  He 
was  looking  westward  at  the  sky. 


THE   PRISON  251 

"You  see  something?"  she  said  quickly.    "What?" 

"Wind  clouds,"  he  answered.  "Cirrus.  Fate  may 
be  making  her  preparations  for  to-night." 

"To-night?"  She  repeated  the  word  faintly,  incredu- 
lously. "I  wonder,"  she  said  slowly.  "I  wonder  if, 
after  all  my  yearning  for  action,  I  shall  —  be  brave 
when  it  really  comes  to  —  to-night?" 

He  looked  down  at  her. 

"And  I  ?"  he  said.  "Have  I  as  good  a  chance  as  you 
to  show  courage?" 

"You?"  she  answered  wonderingly.  "You  are  a 
man." 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "I  am  a  man.  And  you,  a 
woman,  are  dependent  on  me  and  I  am  taking  you  into 
perils  that  I  can  only  guess  at,  dangers  that  lie  abso- 
lutely in  the  hands  of  chance.  For  which  of  us  is  it 
easiest  to  be  brave,  you  or  me?" 

Her  eyes  dropped  from  his. 

"What  do  you  hint?"  she  temporized.  "For  me  — 
why  should  it  be  easier  for  me  ?  The  —  the  cases  are 
equal,  are  they  not?" 

"No,"  he  said  quietly.  "No,  Claire.  And  you  know 
that  they  are  not.  Not  because  you  are  a  woman,  but 
because  you  are  the  woman;  because  you  are  you  — 
and  I  —  am  myself  —  and  love  you  1 " 

And  this  time  there  was  a  note  in  his  voice  which 
she  had  not  recognized  before,  vibrant,  unrestrained, 
passionate.  The  thrill  of  it  pulsed  through  her;  she 
felt  it  in  her  nerves,  her  very  veins.  She  flinched  from 
it,  she  gave  a  tiny  pant;  the  womanly  instinct  of 
evasion  made  her  draw  back  from  him  a  startled 
pace. 

"Isn't  that  the  truth?"    he  asked,  his  voice  hoarse 


252  THE    PURSUIT 

with  its  intensity.  "  Is  n't  it  easy  to  be  brave  for  one- 
self alone  —  easier  than  to  be  brave  for  another?" 

She  stood  looking  at  him,  strangely,  doubtfully,  the 
shadow  of  dumb  entreaty  in  her  eyes.  But  in  her  heart 
other  shadows  were  fading  to  disclose  realities  hitherto 
faintly  suspected  and  half  defined.  Was  this  the  true 
meaning  of  the  fear  which  had  suddenly  been  born  in 
the  moment  of  hope?  Was  it  for  his  sake  she  paused 
upon  the  threshold  of  danger?  The  protective  instinct 
which  she  had  recognized  in  herself  with  wonder  —  had 
that  grown  into  something  more?  Was  it  death  with 
him  or  life  without  him  that  she  pictured  as  the  worst 
that  Fate  could  give? 

The  silence  grew  in  tension  but  she  could  not  break 
it.  What  was  only  then  revealing  itself  to  her  —  could 
she  reveal  it  to  him  ?  She  drew  back  another  pace,  she 
held  out  her  hand  as  if  she  warded  off  the  inevitable. 

"I  cannot  tell,"  she  said  weakly.  "But  — but  I 
think  I  could  be  brave  for  myself  —  alone." 

He  made  an  exclamation,  his  arms  went  out  to  possess 
her,  his  eyes  shone  — 

"No!"  she  cried  passionately.  "No!  Is  it  fair,  is 
it  right  to  take  advantage  of  our  position;  is  it 
honorable?" 

And  then  she  regretted  her  words  in  the  very  speaking 
of  them.  The  passion  faded  from  his  face,  a  shadow 
veiled  his  eyes,  he  made  a  gesture  of  contrition.  And 
she?  With  feminine  inconsistency  she  opened  her 
lips  to  undo  what  she  had  done,  to  make  her  victory 
defeat. 

Again  Fate  intervened.  Aylmer  whispered  warningly, 
slipped  across  the  flags,  and  stretched  himself  upon  the 
pallet.  One  look  through  the  barred  window  explained 


THE    PRISON  253 

his  action.  A  hundred  yards  away  a  couple  of  figures 
were  advancing  towards  the  building.  She  recognized 
Landon  and  in  his  companion,  Miller,  talking  vehemently. 

She  left  the  window  and  waited,  sitting  on  the  rough 
stool  which  was  placed  at  the  pallet  foot. 

A  minute  later  the  sound  of  bolts  withdrawn  and  a 
key  in  a  lock  echoed  under  the  stone  arch.  Landon 
entered  alone,  debonair,  smiling,  but  with  eyes  which 
were  ominous  of  intention. 

He  looked  down  at  the  pallet. 

"Our  sufferer  —  our  patient?  Do  we  perceive  no 
signs  of  progress  ?  " 

There  was  danger  in  his  voice;  she  read  it  un- 
mistakably. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"He  is  no  different,"  she  said  apathetically.  "He  has 
spoken,  once  or  twice.  I  see  no  change." 

"That  is  the  misfortune  of  it  all,"  said  Landon. 
"You  see  no  change.  Can  your  nursing  be  at  fault 
—  not  from  want  of  care,  let  me  say  at  once,  but  from 
want  of  knowledge?  Must  we  call  in  further  advice  in 
consultation?" 

His  face  was  white  and  haggard  below  the  soiled 
bandage  which  crossed  his  forehead.  The  sharpness  of 
his  jaw,  his  sunken  cheeks,  made  of  his  smile  a  very  evil 
thing.  She  flinched  before  it. 

"I  cannot  tell,"  she  answered  wearily. 

"His  movements,  now?"  grinned  Landon.  "Do 
they  give  no  indication  of  his  condition?  Has  he  no 
conscious  interests?" 

The  eyes  below  the  bandage  glittered  and  fear  stabbed 
her  suddenly.  Were  they  betrayed? 

She  shook  her  head. 


254  THE    PURSUIT 

"You  see  for  yourself,"  she  answered,  and  made  a 
gesture  towards  the  motionless  form  on  the  pallet. 

Landon  laughed. 

"No,  I  do  not  see,"  he  said.  "I  am  not  a  physician. 
I  cannot  walk  to  a  bedside  and  deliver  sentences  of 
death  or  reprieves  to  life  like  the  miracle  mongers  of 
Harley  Street.  Unconsciousness  ?  How  is  it  diagnosed  ? 
Sometimes  by  actual  experiment  in  corpore  vile,  is  it 
not?"  He  leaned  over  the  bed.  His  hand  slipped  into 
a  pocket  and  reappeared  holding  an  open  penknife.  He 
thrust  it  suddenly  into  Aylmer's  arm. 

She  gave  a  cry  of  indignation ;  she  seized  his  hand  and 
dragged  him  back. 

He  laughed  savagely  and  tried  to  fling  her  off.  She 
threw  her  whole  weight  upon  his  wrist,  clinging  to  it. 

And  then  he  laughed  again,  with  malignant  enjoy- 
ment. He  changed  his  tactics.  He  no  longer  evaded 
her  grip.  He  jerked  her  towards  him.  And  this  time 
the  penknife  point  found  a  new  sheath.  Deliberately 
he  stabbed  it  against  her  shoulder  and  —  held  it  there ! 

She  shrieked. 

There  was  a  stirring  from  the  pallet  bed.  With  a 
mighty  leap  Aylmer  was  on  his  feet!  His  face  was 
convulsed;  his  eyes  were  lightnings. 

For  the  third  time  Landon  laughed,  triumphantly. 
In  the  same  motion  he  released  his  prisoner  and  sent 
her  spinning  against  Aylmer's  outstretched  arm.  He 
himself  was  at  the  door  and  outside  it,  slamming  it, 
locking  it,  flinging  home  bolt  after  bolt  before  the  two 
inside  had  recovered  from  the  sudden  shock.  A  mo- 
ment later  he  reappeared  at  the  window. 

"Well,  my  early  convalescent!"  he  mocked.  "Have 
you  no  thanks  for  such  a  sudden  recovery?  And  you, 


THE    PRISON  255 

sister-in-law,  for  such  a  lesson  in  the  healing  art  ?  Think 
of  the  efforts  wasted  on  that  malingerer.  Are  n't  you 
blushing  for  the  ease  with  which  you  were  deceived?" 

And  then  the  twinkle  of  wicked  laughter  faded  from 
his  eyes.  He  drew  near  the  window  bars  and  glowered 
down  at  them  evilly. 

"Or  are  you  blushing  for  yourself,  you  wanton!"  he 
cried.  "You  who  deceived  me  into  leaving  you  with 
him  as  a  nurse,  and  knew  that  he  needed  none.  A 
little  paragraph  with  hints  —  or  more  than  hints,  the 
truth  —  about  such  a  matter,  and  where  do  you  stand  ? 
Are  there  society  rags  in  London  and  New  York  ready 
to  accept  that  sort  of  matter  ?  Yes,  virtuous  cousin  and 
sister-in-law,  I  think  there  are,  I  think  there  are ! " 

Neither  of  them  flinched.  They  looked  at  him  fixedly 
and,  in  the  girl's  case,  almost  wonderingly.  And  Landon 
read  the  message  of  her  incredulity  with  a  chuckle  of 
enjoyment 

"I  keep  on  presenting  surprises  to  you,  do  I  not?" 
he  grinned.  "My  versatility,  the  quickness  with  which 
I  seize  new  points  of  humor  impresses  you?" 

For  a  moment  she  was  silent.  And  then,  as  if  a  force 
beyond  her  control  forced  her  to  speak,  she  answered 
him. 

"I  did  not  believe  in  the  possibility  of  there  being  a 
thing  as  vile  as  yourself,"  she  said.  "I  did  not  think 
God  allowed  such  as  you  to  live ! " 

The  satyr-like  grin  broadened  across  his  haggard 
cheeks.  He  leered  down  at  them. 

"I  revel  in  it!"  he  answered.  "By  the  Lord!  Till 
you've  tried  absolutely  unrestrained  wickedness,  till 
you've  thrown  off  every  sort  of  control,  till  you're  one 
with  the  devil  and  proud  of  it,  you  don't  know  what  en- 


256  THE    PURSUIT 

joyment  is!"  His  eyes  glowed;  he  smote  his  fist  ecstati- 
cally on  the  stones.  "It 's  great!"  he  cried.  "Great!" 

A  gray  figure  came  suddenly  into  view  behind  him. 
Miller's  face  showed  white  against  the  shadow  of  the 
dusk  which  was  heralding  its  coming  by  the  deepening 
azure  of  the  sea  and  sky.  And  his  glance  seemed  to  hold 
a  significance  which  the  prisoners  were  meant  to  read, 
but  for  which  they  had  no  clue. 

Landon  heard  him  and  wheeled. 

He  surveyed  him  slowly  and  then  he  laughed. 

"  I'm  beyond  you  now,  teacher!"  he  derided.  "I 
used  to  admire  you  —  the  callousness,  the  relentlessness 
—  which  you  could  put  into  a  job!  But  I'm  way  up 
above  you.  Decency  had  to  be  part  of  your  stock-in- 
trade." 

He  laughed  again,  his  harsh,  cackling  merriment,  and 
there  was  a  note  in  it  which  struck  a  new  chord  of  fear 
in  Claire's  heart.  It  was  inhuman,  unintelligent,  this 
laughter.  It  fell  poignantly,  horribly  on  the  ear. 

"To-morrow  —  manana!"  chuckled  Landon.  "I'm 
coming  back  with  all  my  friends.  We  '11  give  hours  of 
daylight  to  the  job  and,  by  God !  we  '11  make  a  good 
one!  Think  it  over;  give  it  your  attention  through 
the  night !  My  terms,  every  word  of  them  or  —  well, 
try  and  guess  the  persuasions  I  '11  use.  Meditate  on 
them;  paint  them  up  in  your  imaginations  and  then 
you  '11  fall  short !  And  as  for  restraints,  remember  that 
in  my  particular  case  there  is  n't  such  a  thing,  not  one!" 

He  stood  staring  down  at  them  through  a  moment  of 
leering  self-satisfaction,  and  then  slowly,  reluctantly, 
turned  away.  He  took  Miller's  arm  and  drew  him  in- 
sistently down  the  path.  His  evil  laughter  came  back  to 
them  shrill  upon  the  evening  breeze. 


THE    PRISON  257 

Inside  their  prison  the  two  turned  and  confronted  each 
other.  Then  Aylmer  spoke. 

"He  has  defied  God,  and  the  judgment  of  God  has 
fallen  on  him.  He  is  insane  —  that  is  evident !  Insane 
with  malice,  with  his  surrender  to  the  devil  and  all  his 
works." 

Her  lips  were  parched.     She  whispered. 

"And  to-morrow?"  she  questioned,  thickly.  "To- 
morrow —  we  shall  have  to  surrender,  too.  To  him  ?" 

He  clenched  his  fists. 

"No!"  he  said.  "No!  Not  while  Fate  has  given  us 
to-night —  to-night!" 


17 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

PADRE  8IGISMONDI 

THE  presage  of  the  afternoon  sky  was  amply  ful- 
filled by  midnight.  The  western  gale  howled 
through  the  window  bars  and  the  sound  of  the  sea's 
thunder  rolled  up  from  the  beach.  For  the  Mediterra- 
nean it  was  a  gale  beyond  the  normal,  one  that  had 
borrowed  strength  from  its  Atlantic  kin.  It  lashed  the 
green  islands  of  the  archipelago  with  unaccustomed 
violence.  The  vine  poles  fell  in  ranks  before  its  blast; 
the  lava  dust  whirled  up  in  spirals ;  the  pebbles  clattered 
along  the  face  of  the  shingle.  And  yet  there  was  some- 
thing strange,  noticeable,  almost  ominous,  about  the 
tempest.  It  had  none  of  the  northern  breath  of  ice.  It 
was  a  hot  wind ;  in  spring  or  summer,  and  had  it  risen 
in  the  south,  one  would  have  called  it  sirocco  and  kept 
in  the  shadow  throughout  its  blowing.  But  this  wind 
blew  from  the  north  and  the  month  was  December. 
The  islanders  mused  over  the  phenomenon  debatingly. 

Inside  the  prison  the  storm  muffled  sounds  which, 
however,  no  listener  was  abroad  to  detect.  A  common 
table  fork  his  only  implement,  Aylmer  was  levering  the 
massive  corner-stones  inch  by  inch  from  their  seating. 
The  lower  one  had  already  been  removed,  but  the  upper 
one,  as  expected,  had  not  fallen  from  its  place.  He 
panted  as  he  put  forth  his  strength  upon  it.  The  ebb 
and  flow  of  his  pulses  swelled  in  the  half-healed  scar  on 
his  temple.  Blood  was  flowing  from  a  few  superficial 


PADRE    SIGISMONDI  259 

cuts  upon  his  fingers.  He  ground  his  teeth  and  tugged 
at  the  stone  savagely,  worrying  it  as  a  terrier  might 
worry  a  defiant  rat.  And  then,  with  an  unexpected  jerk, 
it  fell  out  upon  him  bodily.  He  dropped  backwards, 
the  stone's  weight  upon  his  leg. 

He  gave  a  half-muffled  cry,  not  of  pain,  but  of  satis- 
faction. The  rest  was  easy ;  the  road  was  open. 

Then,  as  he  panted  in  the  relief  of  accomplished 
effort,  Fate  rebuked  his  satisfaction  with  a  sudden 
threat.  A  step  sounded  coming  up  the  gravel. 

His  temperamental  coolness  and  presence  of  mind 
never  stood  a  test  better.  He  stood  up,  raised  each 
stone  in  quick  succession,  and  placed  them  swiftly, 
carefully,  and  silently  beneath  the  coverlet  of  his  com- 
panion's bed.  She  flung  herself  down  beside  them. 
He  drew  his  own  pallet  into  the  corner  from  which  the 
stones  had  been  removed  and  lay,  his  face  to  the  wall, 
the  huddle  of  the  bed  clothes  hiding  the  opening.  A 
moment  later  a  light  shone  through  the  window.  The 
light  of  a  lamp  illuminated  a  wrinkled  Italian  face. 

The  watcher  blinked  at  them  suspiciously,  grunted, 
and  then  with  a  half-articulate  expression  of  satisfac- 
tion, turned  away.  The  light  bobbed  slowly  off  into  the 
distance,  flaring  and  guttering  before  the  force  of  the 
wind.  Inside  the  prison  a  sigh  went  up  —  a  chorussed 
echo  of  relief. 

"Landon  is  taking  no  chances,"  said  Aylmer,  in  a 
whisper.  "We  are  to  be  visited,  at  intervals.  That  is 
evident." 

He  heard  something  like  the  sound  of  a  sob  in  the 
darkness. 

"It  means  defeat  — this?"  asked  Claire.  "Fate  is 
setting  her  face  against  us.  We  are  not  even  to  have 
our  chance  1 " 


26o  THE    PURSUIT 

"No!"  he  said  grimly.  "Fate  is  not  against  us. 
I  feel  it,  I  have  believed  it  all  along.  And  if  she  is,  then 
it  is  our  duty  to  defy  her.  After  all,  we  can  use  the 
chief  source  of  danger  to  defeat  suspicion;  that  is  easy." 

He  rose  cautiously  and  plucked  the  remaining  stones 
from  the  hole.  He  placed  them  in  his  own  bed;  he  ar- 
ranged matters  carefully.  And  then  he  made  a  motion 
towards  the  new-made  opening. 

"Will  you  lead?"  he  said  quietly.  "Will  you  be  the 
first  to  confront  —  Fate  ?" 

She  gave  a  little  gasp. 

"I?"  she  said,  and  hesitated,  fear  in  her  eyes. 

"  You,  if  you  will,"  he  answered  simply.  "  Make  your 
way  out  and  hide  yourself  in  the  nearest  convenient  shadow. 
Then,  if  he  returns  before  I  can  join  you,  await  me.  If 
not  —  "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  I  shall  be  at  your 
heels." 

She  still  paused,  and  her  fingers  clenched  and  un- 
clenched. 

"  I  did  not  expect  —  to  be  —  separated,"  she  breathed. 
"My  strength  —  I  did  not  realize  it  at  first  —  is  coming 
all  from  you." 

His  hand  went  out  into  the  darkness  and  touched  her. 

"  From  now  on,  it  will  be  used  in  your  service,"  he  said 
quietly.  "For  you  and  you  alone."  She  felt  the  hand 
quiver.  "  Whether  you  ask  it  or  not,  whether  I  am  to  be 
all  to  you  in  the  future,  or  nothing.  It  will  be  there  —  for 
your  asking." 

And  then,  because  the  need  of  that  strength  came  upon 
her  with  a  force  which  she  could  not  control,  she  gripped 
the  protecting  hand  between  her  fingers  and  —  Fate  alone 
knows  why  —  raised  it  to  her  lips.  The  next  instant  she 
had  slipped  past  him  in  the  darkness  and  was  drawing 


She  gripped  the  protecting  hand  bet-iveen  her  fingers 
PAGE  260 


PADRE    SIGISMONDI  261 

herself  through  the  opening.  She  rose  to  her  knees,  to  her 
feet.  She  stood  out  upon  the  wind-swept  earth,  free.  Free 
of  the  material  prison  behind  her.  Had  she  not  laid  upon 
herself  new  bonds  ?  It  was  a  thought  too  new,  too  indefi- 
nite, too  strangely  sweet.  The  tumult  of  her  feelings  was 
in  accord  with  the  tumult  of  the  night. 

She  stood,  expectant,  her  ears  alert  for  sounds.  There 
was  no  grating  of  pebbles  upon  the  path.  But  from  the 
hole  at  her  feet  the  faint  rip  of  clothing  torn  against  the 
angle  of  the  stone.  The  next  instant  Aylmer  had  emerged, 
but  did  not  rise.  His  hands,  returning  to  the  opening,  still 
worked  at  something  within.  And  then  she  gave  a  little 
gasp.  A  light  shone  at  her  feet.  It  made  a  tiny,  yellow 
splash  in  the  darkness  and  fell  —  on  Aylmer's  face. 

Terror  paralyzed  her ;  she  stood  as  if  turned  to  stone ; 
her  hands  clenched  into  her  clothing  upon  her  breast. 
And  Aylmer  lay  as  motionless,  the  golden  gleam  falling 
directly  into  his  eyes,  which  did  not  even  blink. 

A  sound  broke  the  stillness  —  a  sound  which  came  from 
the  far  side  of  their  prison  —  and  the  light  disappeared. 
She  heard  footsteps  which  retreated ;  she  recognized  again 
the  grunt  which  told  of  another  inspection  made  to  the 
inspector's  content.  But  what  had  saved  them  —  what  ? 

Aylmer  rose  and  stood  beside  her.  His  hand  gently 
gripped  her  elbow  and  drew  her  out  into  the  roar  and  beat 
of  the  tempest.  He  headed  inland;  the  path  which  the 
sentinel  had  taken  was  the  one  which  led  towards  the  shore. 

A  minute  later  she  breathed  her  question.  And  he 
laughed  lightly  in  the  darkness.  The  sound,  incongruous 
as  it  seemed  to  her  sense  of  ever-menacing  fear,  thrilled 
her  strangely.  If  he  could  laugh,  was  not  Fate  laughing 
with  him  ?  Was  there  not  a  smile  on  the  face  of  Hope  ? 

"  I  was  only  just  through  the  hole  when  he  came,  when 


a62  THE    PURSUIT 

he  flashed  his  lantern  at  what  he  supposed  was  my  body, 
recumbent  on  the  bed.  I  was  holding  up  the  bed  clothes 
from  auiside ;  I  had  not  had  time  to  shove  the  stones  back 
into  place." 

She  shuddered  at  the  nearness  of  the  hazard.    Suppos- 
ing the  man  had  come  at  the  very  moment  of  escape  — 
supposing  ? 

"But  the  light?"  she  protested.  "The  light  shone 
upon  your  face!" 

He  laughed  again. 

"The  bed  clothes  had  a  hole  in  them!"  he  said.  "I 
held  them  up  into  the  form  of  human  shoulders,  and 
through  a  rent  his  lantern  beat  directly  on  my  face !  He 
could  not,  of  course,  see  me,  but  I  got  a  good  view  of  him. 
It  was  Luigi  himself,  this  time.  Has  Fate  been  whis- 
pering to  him,  do  you  think?  Has  she  made  him  sus- 
picious?" 

She  stumbled  and  caught  at  him  to  steady  herself.  He 
looked  down  in  sudden,  quick  compunction. 

"It  has  been  too  much  for  you!"  he  said  anxiously. 
"You  are  feeling  faint?" 

"No!"  she  said  quietly.  "I  am  trying  to  think  of  it 
as  a  nightmare  from  which  I  shall  wake  directly,  but  it  is 
real !  Whenever  that  comes  home  to  me  it  —  it  is  a  pain. 
Well,  it  will  not  be  a  long  ordeal  now,  will  it  ?  We  meet 
Fate  at  the  landing  stage,  and  she  will  give  her  decision. 
Can  we  unmoor  the  Santa  Margarita  from  inside  the  break- 
water, or  can  we  not  ?  She  will  know." 

He  nodded. 

"In  five  minutes  we,  too,  shall  know.  We  are  circling 
for  the  Marina  now.  A  couple  of  hundred  yards  and  we 
shall  be  there!" 

They  strode  on  into  the  darkness,  with  eyes  and  ears 


PADRE    SIGISMONDI  263 

alert.  They  heard  the  battling  of  the  waves  against  the 
stones  of  the  tiny  pier,  but  what  they  did  not  hear  was  the 
sound  of  singing  cordage  in  the  felucca's  rigging. 

Aylmer  halted  with  a  sudden,  muffled  exclamation. 

"They  have  unshipped  the  mast!"  he  cried  sharply, 
and  this  time  she  recognized,  even  in  his  voice,  the  note 
of  defeat. 

She  echoed  his  exclamation ;  she  followed  at  his  heels  as 
he  ran  out  upon  the  little  breakwater.  No,  there  had 
been  no  room  for  mistake.  The  great  mast  with  its  cross 
spar  lay  along  the  stone  flags.  The  hull  was  snugly 
berthed  alongside  it,  within  the  tiny  harbor.  The  dingy  ? 
There  was  none;  they  had  cast  it  loose  when  they  fled 
from  the  torpedo  boat  through  the  island  channel. 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  speak.  He  stood,  looking  si- 
lently at  the  dismantled  boat,  the  raging  sea,  the  swing- 
ing lights  of  a  passing  steamer.  Then  he  turned  and 
shook  his  head. 

"To  step  that  mast  into  place  again  is  beyond  one 
man's  strength,"  he  said.  "  To  fling  ourselves  out  into  that 
whirl  on  a  mastless  hull  is  to  court  death  inevitably. 
What  is  the  alternative  ?  We  could  stand  in  front  of  the 
shed  here,  screened  from  view  inland,  and  signal  some 
passing  vessel  with  flares,  if  we  had  the  means  of  making 
a  light.  That  would  not  be  a  good  chance,  but  it  has  possi- 
bilities." 

"And  I  have  matches!"  she  said  eagerly.  "I  have 
my  chatelaine  still.  I  have  even  my  purse  yet.  So  far 
they  have  not  robbed  me." 

He  turned  as  she  spoke  and  without  comment  ran  back 
across  the  shingle.  He  began  to  pluck  handfuls  of  the  dry, 
bent  grass  which  found  a  sparse  livelihood  in  the  belt  of 
sand  between  the  shore  and  the  vineyards.  He  returned, 


264  THE    PURSUIT 

rummaged  among  the  litter  around  the  shed,  broke  up 
some  stray  pieces  of  driftwood  into  chips,  and  thrust  a 
lighted  match  among  the  bents.  A  flame  shot  up,  passed 
from  the  tinder  to  the  wood,  and  within  a  minute  was  a 
well-lit  fire.  He  twisted  the  remaining  handfuls  of  grass 
into  spirals,  wetted  them  slightly  in  the  sea,  and  held  them 
to  the  flame. 

They  burnt  slowly  with  a  red  glow,  as  he  swung  them 
to  and  fro  in  the  wind;  in  dashes,  in  dots,  in  circles,  he 
spelled  messages  into  the  night,  but  no  answering  lantern 
or  rocket  came  from  the  sea.  And  she  watched  apatheti- 
cally. For  her  hope  was  dead  again,  the  hand  of  Fate 
had  closed.  This  was  action;  this  helped  them  to  avoid 
thinking,  to  avert  anticipation,  but  success  was  a  matter 
outside  her  calculations.  The  sense  of  nightmare  closed 
down  upon  her  again.  The  storm,  the  red  flashes  against 
the  purple  darkness,  the  wild  unaccustomedness  of  every- 
thing heightened  the  illusion.  But  when  would  she  wake  ? 
Ah,  when  would  she  wake? 

And  then  —  she  rubbed  her  eyes.  A  light  —  surely 
this  was  no  freak  of  her  fevered  eyesight  ?  —  danced  into 
view  within  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  of  the  shore.  For  a 
moment  it  swung  to  the  lift  and  surge  of  the  waves  alone, 
but  a  moment  later  it  rose  half  a  dozen  feet  into  the  air, 
and  flashed  and  circled  as  the  charred  torch  in  Aylmer's 
hand  was  circling  —  an  answer  to  their  message  of  despair. 
She  gasped  with  eagerness ;  she  cried  aloud. 

Was  it  fancy  or  did  another  cry  reach  them  through  the 
thunder  of  the  waves  ? 

The  light  stayed  motionless  for  an  instant,  and  then 
swung  towards  them.  Whatever  vessel  was  bearing  it 
had  turned  its  prow  towards  the  shore.  Aylmer  caught  up 
another  glowing  handful  of  bents  and  ran  out  to  the  break- 


PADRE    SIGISMONDI  265 

water's  end.  Claire's  heart  beat  in  suffocating  throbs  as  she 
followed. 

Again  a  cry  reached  them,  and  Alymer  waved  his  bea- 
con vigorously.  A  sudden  shaft  of  moonlight  sank  through 
a  rift  in  the  flying  clouds. 

They  saw  it  then  —  a  dark  mass  which  plunged  and 
heaved  among  the  white  crests,  and  drifted  nearer  and 
nearer.  There  was  no  sail  set,  but  they  could  see  the  rise 
and  fall  of  a  couple  of  great  oars  which  steadied  the  boat 
as  it  advanced  by  drifting  only.  It  was  less  than  a  cable 
length  distant  now,  passing  through  the  ring  of  rocks 
which  guarded  the  harbor  entrance. 

They  held  their  breath.  Ten  seconds  would  do  it,  but 
ten  seconds  held  an  infinitude  of  possibilities.  If  the  boat 
broached  to,  if  its  prow,  indeed,  deflected  a  couple  of 
yards  from  the  course,  would  not  that  give  Fate  a  chance 
to  fling  her  scorn  upon  their  rising  hopes?  Their  eyes 
were  strained.  Claire's  hand  was  clenched  till  her  nails 
seemed  to  sink  into  the  flesh  of  her  palm.  And  then  she 
gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  boat  had  passed  the  outer  rock, 
was  heading  straight  for  the  inner  harbor  and  the  calm. 

Fate  laughed  harshly. 

A  gust  stormed  in  from  the  sea,  caught  the  boat's  prow, 
swung  it,  caused  the  port  side  rower  to  meet  its  strength 
too  swiftly  with  his  own.  They  heard  a  crack  —  heard  it 
distinctly  above  the  uproars  of  the  gale.  The  oar  had 
broken  between  the  thole-pins;  the  rower  was  down. 

There  was  another  crashing  sound,  louder  this  time, 
and  menacing.  A  great  sea  raced  beneath  the  laboring 
keel,  lifted  it,  shook  it,  and  flung  it  aside,  full  upon  the 
rock.  The  white  gleam  of  the  new-made  splinters  reached 
them  through  the  smother  of  the  foam  fifty  yards  away. 

Aylmer  cried  out  and  raced  back  along  the  stones.    His 


266  THE    PURSUIT 

hands  plucked  at  the  cordage  which  was  folded  about  the 
felucca's  mast,  and  drew  out  a  rope.  He  came  back  at 
speed,  unwinding  the  coils  as  he  came.  He  thrust  the  loose 
end  into  her  hands. 

"  Get  a  purchase  against  a  stone  and  then  hold  on  — 
hold  on  1 "  he  ordered.  He  flung  off  his  coat. 

She  cried  out  in  protest ;  she  clung  to  him. 

"No!  "she  cried.    "No!" 

Very  gently,  very  firmly,  her  hand  was  drawn  aside. 
He  bent  over  her;  something  touched  faintly  —  very 
faintly  —  her  lips.  The  next  instant  she  was  alone.  He 
had  leaped  —  far  out  into  the  grip  of  the  tide. 

She  caught  her  breath  and  clutched  the  rope;  she 
flung  herself  down  and  wedged  her  limbs  behind  a  boulder. 
Fate  was  relentless,  she  told  herself,  was  cruel  beyond 
even  her  darkest  anticipations.  For  now  her  one  support 
was  to  be  denied  her;  she  was  to  be  left  alone.  She  set 
her  lips  grimly.  No,  she  would  never  see  Aylmer  again, 
but  she  would  defy  Fate !  She  was  to  be  crushed,  but  she 
would  go  down  fighting ;  she  would  be  worthy  of  herself 
—  and  of  him. 

The  vagrant  shaft  of  moonlight  was  gone  again;  the 
darkness  was  well-nigh  impenetrable.  The  rope  swung 
between  her  fingers  unstraining.  The  minutes  passed  one 
by  one ;  the  tension  of  expectancy  plucked  at  her  nerves ; 
she  shivered,  but  not  with  cold.  Even  if  it  was  the  worst 
that  was  to  come  upon  her  she  wanted  to  know  —  to 
know. 

The  rope  grew  taut. 

It  was  as  if  an  electric  shock  thrilled  her.  She  braced 
herself  against  the  stone,  and  her  muscles  tightened; 
slowly,  using  her  strength  to  its  utmost  but  with  steady 
effort,  she  began  to  haul  it  in  foot  by  foot.  It  came  heavily 


PADRE    SIGISMONDI  267 

but  unceasingly,  the  coils  unwinding  fathom  after  fathom 
at  her  side. 

And  then  the  strain  ceased  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun. 
A  voice  hailed  her  out  of  the  darkness,  almost  at  her  feet. 
A  dark  bulk  rose  at  the  breakwater's  edge. 

Aylmer  staggered  towards  her  and  laid  something  on  the 
stones  —  something  which  stirred  uneasily  but  unavail- 
ingly,  clogged,  as  it  seemed,  by  the  weight  of  its  sodden 
clothing. 

She  knelt  beside  it.  She  brushed  the  lank  hair  from  a 
dripping  face. 

Aylmer  waved  her  back. 

"  There  is  another ! "  he  shouted.  "  Hold  on  if  you  can ! 
Hold  on ! "  and  so  plunged  back  into  the  surf.  For  the 
second  time  she  braced  herself  to  endure  the  strain  —  to 
wait  —  to  agonize  with  expectation.  And  again  Fate  played 
with  her,  racked  her  between  hope  and  fear,  drew  out  the 
strain  and  then,  as  suddenly,  relaxed  it.  Aylmer  crept  out 
upon  the  stones,  gasping,  doggedly  clinging  to  a  new 
burden. 

This  time  it  was  the  bearer  who  staggered  and  fell,  the 
burden  who  rose  unsteadily,  and  peered  into  his  rescuer's 
face. 

She  dropped  upon  her  knees  beside  him.  Pale,  clean-cut 
ascetic  features  were  lifted  to  hers.  Two  dark  brown  eyes 
inspected  her  with  startled  incredulity. 

And  then  the  man  rose  and  —  the  act  was  instinctive, 
it  was  obvious  —  doffed  his  hat. 

"Signora,"  he  said  in  Italian.  "Signora!  This  is  Sali- 
cudi,  is  it  not  ?  I  am  at  a  loss  —  I  do  not  understand." 

For  a  moment  she  hesitated,  looking  at  him.  The  long 
black  garment  which  clung  about  him  reached  to  his  feet. 
Suddenly  she  recognized  it,  and,  with  recognition,  a  little 


268  THE    PURSUIT 

cry  escaped  her.  It  was  a  soutane.  And  this  was  no 
sailor.  She  was  confronted  by  a  priest. 

As  she  opened  her  lips  to  find  a  reply,  something  clat- 
tered behind  her;  something  rushed,  calling  upon  the 
names  of  innumerable  saints,  out  of  the  darkness,  and 
seized  her  shoulder.  A  harsh  voice  rang  into  the  echoes 
of  the  night. 

"To  me — to  me,  all  of  you!  They  are  escaping! 
Blood  of  My  Lady,  the  prisoners  are  loose ! " 

The  man  in  the  soutane  whirled  fiercely  upon  the  new- 
comer. And  as  he  turned  the  moon  broke  through  the 
scurry  of  the  drift  and  fell  upon  the  group  in  cold 
brilliance. 

"Prisoners!"  The  voice  was  incredulous,  wrathful, 
and  above  all  full  of  command.  "Prisoners!  You  speak 
of  — whom?" 

The  hand  upon  Claire's  shoulder  dropped.  Her  captor 
fell  away  as  if  struck  by  a  physical  blow. 

"Padre  Sigi!  "  he  stammered,  and  his  voice  was  con- 
vincing of  his  amazement.  "  Padre  Sigi ! " 

The  other  nodded  imperiously. 

"Padre  Sigismondi,"  he  agreed.  "At  your  service,  my 
good  Luigi.  At  your  service  I" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

LUIGI'S   HOSPITALITY 

THE  smuggler's  eyes  expressed  the  limits  of  amaze- 
ment. He  stared  at  the  newcomer.  He  turned 
his  glance  to  Aylmer,  as  if  he  sought  information  there. 
He  brought  it  back  and  focussed  it  upon  the  dripping 
soutane.  He  made  inarticulate  noises  of  incredulity; 
he  flung  up  his  hands  with  gestures  of  bewilderment. 

"You  arrive  —  how,  reverend  father?"  he  cried. 
"What  have  vou  used?  The  wings  of  a  bird,  the  fins  of 
a  fish?" 

"The  eyes  of  a  God-fearing  priest,"  retorted  Padre 
Sigismondi.  "I  saw  signals  being  flashed  from  your 
island.  With  Emmanuele  here,"  he  pointed  to  the  drip- 
ping figure  which  still  lay  upon  the  stones,  "  I  was  passing 
your  abode  of  sin  on  my  way  to  Stromboli.  I  had,  in  fact, 
no  choice  —  I  was  being  blown  there.  I  saw  the  signals, 
I  say,  but  read  no  meaning  in  them.  Some  unconfessed 
wretch  needs  extreme  unction,  say  I  to  myself,  and  steered 
among  the  teeth  of  your  reefs.  One  of  our  sweeps  broke 
at  a  critical  moment.  This  cavalier  here  leaped  in  to  our 
rescue.  I  have  not  properly  thanked  him  yet  because  I  am 
awaiting  explanation  of  the  words  I  heard  as  you  thrust 
yourself  upon  us.  Prisoners,  did  you  say?  It  must  be 
a  cataclysm  of  morality -which  has  made  you  a  gaoler  or  a 
judge,  my  wonderful  Luigi." 

The  smuggler  shivered  and  blenched. 


270  THE    PURSUIT 

"This  man  and  this  woman  are  in  a  sense  prisoners," 
he  allowed.  "They  are  not  on  good  terms  with  our  other 
—  guests.  We  have  had  to  restrain  their  liberties." 

Padre  Sigismondi  regarded  him  fixedly.  The  unfor- 
tunate Luigi's  tongue  protruded  with  nervousness;  his 
cheek  muscles  twitched.  The  priest  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders as  he  turned  to  Aylmer. 

"I  arrive  unceremoniously,"  he  smiled,  "but  not  in- 
opportunely, it  seems.  May  I  have  your  version  of  the 
extraordinary  circumstances  in  which  I  find  the  Signora 
and  yourself,  Signor?" 

Aylmer  smiled  back  at  him. 

"They  are  simple  enough,  father,"  he  answered.  "We 
are  prisoners ;  there  is  no  need  for  our  friend  here  to  beat 
about  the  bush.  At  the  instigation  of  —  of  a  certain  enemy 
of  ours,  in  whose  pay  the  good  Luigi  finds  himself,  we  were 
kidnapped  from  the  port  of  Melilla  and  brought  here.  It 
was  our  signals  you  saw.  May  I  add  my  profound 
regrets  at  die  misfortune  you  experienced  in  answering 
them?" 

"The  Church  is  a  boat  to  the  bad,  but  possibly  a 
gainer  in  righteousness,"  said  the  other.  "I  may  be  the 
means  of  preventing  some  irretrievable  sin  on  the  part 
of  these  Islanders.  You  were  being  held  to  ransom,  do  I 
understand?" 

The  dripping  figure  at  his  feet  stirred  and  rose  weakly 
to  a  standing  posture.  A  cackle  of  laughter  came  from 
between  the  chattering  teeth. 

"The  gaol-bird  as  gaoler  —  eh,  but  that  is  a  rib-rend- 
ing jest,  Luigi.  You  have  imagination,  amico,  imagina- 
tion and,  it  seems,  opportunity.  You  will  go  far!" 

The  sailor  turned  his  wrinkled  face  on  the  abashed 
smuggler;  his  white  teeth  flashed  a  prodigious  smile. 


LUIGI'S    HOSPITALITY        .       271 

He  seemed  to  find  nothing  disconcerting  in  the  situation, 
but  desired  to  show  quickness  in  seizing  its  points  of 
humor. 

"He  will  certainly  go  far,  my  good  Emmanuele," 
agreed  Padre  Sigismondi,  drily.  "As  far  as  the  penal 
station  on  Procida  if  I  am  not  hugely  mistaken,  or  unless 
he  shows  a  most  improbable  repentance.  What  have 
we  here?  Other  warders  in  this  private  penitentiary?" 

Footsteps  clattered  along  the  tiny  causeway.  With  a 
rush,  half  a  dozen  figures  swept  up  to  them  through  the 
moonlight,  Landon  at  their  head.  This  was  the  answer 
to  Signer  Luigi's  frantic  shouts. 

The  rush  wavered,  hesitated,  came  to  a  halt.  The 
islanders  recognized  the  grim,  aggressive  form  in  the 
soutane  with  sharp  exclamations  of  amazement  and 
alarm.  Landon,  without  their  experience,  felt  the  im- 
palpable infection  of  their  fear.  He,  too,  halted,  staring 
mistrustfully  at  the  priest  and  his  companions. 

He  shook  Luigi  by  the  elbow. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  he  demanded. 

The  smuggler  made  a  deferential  outward  movement 
of  his  palms. 

"It  is  a  visit,  an  unexpected  visit,  from  our  —  our 
vicar,"  he  explained.  "  It  is  the  Padre  Sigi  —  Sigismondi, 
I  should  say." 

The  padre  stepped  forward  and  spoke  in  crisp,  im- 
perturbable tones. 

"I  am  peripatetic  confessor  to  these  islands,  Signer," 
he  said.  "There  is  a  bitter  need  of  six  priests  to  each 
island,  rather  than  six  islands  to  a  priest.  It  is  an  abode 
of  wickedness,  this.  That,  perhaps,  has  not  been  hidden 
from  you?" 

Landon  kept  a  moment's  silence.    Then  he  smiled. 


272  THE    PURSUIT 

"I  confess  that  I  have  not  augmented  its  morality,  in 
bulk,  Signer,"  he  said.  "  In  fact,  by  adding  the  two  who 
stand  behind  you  to  its  population,  I  have  done  far 
otherwise.  Instead  of  being  where  you  find  them,  they 
should  be  under  lock  and  key." 

"Why?"  demanded  the  priest,  laconically. 

"Because  they  robbed  me,"  answered  Landon.  "Be- 
cause, for  wicked  purposes  of  their  own,  they  took  from 
me  —  not  gold,  but  what  is  beyond  the  price  of  gold  or 
buying  —  my  only  son." 

"You  accuse  them  of  —  kidnapping?"  The  good 
man's  voice  was  coldly  incredulous. 

Landon  made  a  gesture  of  assent. 

"Of  that  and  of  attempted  murder.  They  hired 
Moorish  desperadoes  to  attack  me,  to  ride  me  down." 

"And  you  have  made  of  yourself  not  only  prosecutor, 
but  judge,  jury,  and  keeper  of  their  prison?" 

"These  things  happened  in  Africa,  outside  civilized 
jurisdiction.  Was  I  to  lack  justice  when  it  lay  in  the 
hollow  of  my  hand?" 

"Are  there  no  consular  courts?  If  not,  you  cannot 
bring  your  private  cause  to  private  verdict  in  the  domin- 
ions of  the  King  of  Italy,  however  bad  his  title  to  the 
throne." 

"Your  reverence  is  a  Legitimist?"   grinned  Landon. 

"In  every  sense  of  the  word,  Signor.  My  sense  of 
legitimacy  finds  your  arguments  unsound." 

He  looked  at  Claire  with  an  apologetic  bow. 

"And  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Signora,  I  have  not  heard 
your  statement.  How  does  it  vary  from  this  gentle- 
man's? Or  does  it,  perhaps,  corroborate  it?" 

She  looked  at  him  very  steadily. 

"The  man  to  whom  you  have  been  talking,"  she  said 


LUIGI'S    HOSPITALITY  273 

slowly,  "is,  I  think,  Signor,  the  worst  man  whom  God 
permits  to  live." 

He  made  a  little  gesture  of  protest. 

"  You  have  suffered  at  his  hands  —  is  that  it  ?  But 
your  sentence  is  too  sweeping  a  one,  is  it  not?  Surely, 
Signora,  surely?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No!"  she  said  determinedly.  "Traitor,  forger,  thief 
—  we  know  him  to  be  all  these.  And  last,  but  not  least, 
murderer.  A  murderer  of  souls.  I  do  not  know  if  he  has 
taken  a  fellow  creature's  life,  but  for  five  years  he  racked 
into  the  numbness  of  despair  the  soul  of  my  sister,  who 
was  his  wife." 

He  made  a  tiny  exclamation  of  sympathy;  he  held 
up  his  hand  as  if  he  put  away  from  him  a  spectre  of 
evil. 

He  looked  back  to  Landon. 

"You  have  heard,  Signor?"  he  said. 

"I  have  heard,"  said  Landon,  easily.  "As  a  tale  it  has 
no  originality  and  therefore  little  interest  for  me.  I  have 
heard  it  a  hundred  times.  Your  reverence  found  fault,  a 
moment  back,  with  my  self-assumed  status  of  judge. 
Are  you  going  to  borrow  the  cloak  which  you  do  not  per- 
mit me  to  wear  ?  You  have  heard  both  sides.  To  what 
proof  can  you  refer  a  decision  ?" 

The  long,  lean  figure  drew  itself  up  very  rigidly. 

"I  am  a  sinful  man  myself,  Signor.  I  make  no  deci- 
sions. But  I  have  been  appealed  to,  as  I  understand, 
by  those  whom  I  find  in  your  power.  I  shall  not  permit 
your  restraint  of  them  to  continue.  You  can  refer  any 
grievance  you  have  against  them  to  properly  constituted 
tribunals  over  there."  He  lifted  his  arm  and  pointed 
south  to  where  storm  and  night  hid  Sicily. 

18 


274  THE    PURSUIT 

He  turned  to  Luigi. 

"  Emmanuele  and  I  are,  as  you  see,  sodden  to  the  skin. 
It  may  reach  your  great  intelligence,  by  degrees,  that  we 
need  warmth  and  refreshment." 

The  smuggler  made  an  apologetic  gesture. 

"But  certainly,  Reverenza.  There  is  in  the  house  a 
fire.  My  poor  provisions  are  at  your  service." 

The  priest  looked  towards  Claire  with  another  courtly 
doffing  of  his  hat. 

"And  you,  Signora,  and  you,  Signer,  will  add  to  my 
felicity  by  sharing  both  with  me?" 

She  looked  at  him  gravely. 

"They  have  not  starved  us;  we  had  food  a  couple 
of  hours  ago,"  she  said.  "But  your  company,  here  and 
to  the  mainland,  is  a  boon  straight  from  the  hand  of 
God." 

He  inclined  his  head  in  assent. 

"I  am  His  servant,  Signora,"  he  said.  "I  thank  Him 
for  permitting  me  to  serve  Him,  in  serving  you.  Shall 
we  make  our  way  to  the  house  ?  The  hour  must  be  close 
on  midnight." 

He  made  a  motion  towards  the  path.  He  looked  im- 
perturbably  at  Landon,  who,  with  Muhammed,  still 
stood  astride  it. 

"You  appear  to  be  blocking  the  lady's  way,  Signer," 
he  said.  "  Not  intentionally,  I  dare  to  hope." 

Landon  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  drew  aside. 

"On  the  contrary,  your  reverence.  Not  for  worlds 
would  I  stand  between  you  and  refreshment  —  and 
sleep." 

He  looked  at  Muhammed  with  a  half-sardonic,  half-in- 
quiring gaze  as  he  spoke.  And  there  was  a  faintly  em- 
phasized inflection  on  the  last  two  words. 


LUIGI'S    HOSPITALITY  275 

The  Moor  looked  back  at  him  impassively,  and  then 
drew  aside  with  an  obsequious  droop  of  the  head. 

But  to  Claire  and,  to  a  less  extent  to  Aylmer,  there 
was  a  queer,  indefinite  sense  of  something  which  im- 
pended —  something  which  racked  them  with  suspicion 
in  the  attitude  of  those  about  them.  Landon's  surrender 
was  too  facile;  Luigi's  deference  too  pliant;  Muham- 
med's  apathetic  eyes  were  never  less  convincing  of  guile- 
lessness.  When  they  reached  the  cottage,  and  stood  with 
Padre  Sigismondi  before  the  blaze  in  the  great  open 
hearth  and  watched  the  quick  preparations  which  were 
being  made  to  improvise  a  meal,  the  unreality  of  their 
surroundings  seemed  to  grow  in  significance.  No  one 
interfered  with  them;  no  one  even  noticed  them.  Luigi 
set  the  table ;  Muhammed  busied  himself  with  the  coffee- 
pot; Landon  held  the  father's  dripping  garments  to  the 
blaze  while  their  owner  assumed  a  sailor's  trousers  and 
jersey  in  an  adjoining  room.  It  was  too  incredible,  this 
sudden  turning  of  tables.  They  looked  at  each  other 
doubtfully. 

Their  speculations  received  a  sudden  interruption. 
The  door  opened  to  admit  Miller. 

He  was  half  dressed.  He  blinked  —  it  was  apparent 
that  he  and  sleep  had  parted  company  a  short  half  min- 
ute before. 

"I  heard  noises,"  he  said,  and  then  his  glance  fell 
upon  the  two  who  stood  near  the  fireplace,  side  by  side. 
His  usual  phlegm  seemed  to  desert  him.  He  gave  an 
exclamation. 

"You!"  he  cried.     "Youl" 

He  wheeled  towards  Landon. 

"Will  you  explain?"  he  cried  harshly.  "What  is 
happening  ?  " 


276  THE    PURSUIT 

"  I  entertain  guests  —  a  small,  but  select,  family 
party,"  grinned  Landon. 

The  gray  man  stared  at  him  with  still  unappeased 
surprise.  Then,  suddenly,  his  face  cleared.  He  looked 
at  Claire ;  he  looked  on  beyond  her  to  Aylmer. 

"You  have  met  his  terms?  You  see  the  hopelessness 
of  it  all;  you  have  been  wise?" 

His  voice  was  smooth,  now,  and  had  lost  its  harsh 
tones  of  amazement.  He  purred  his  approbation. 

Aylmer  laughed. 

"We  have  been  wise,  my  dear  Miller,"  he  agreed.  He 
laughed  again  as  Padre  Sigismondi  briskly  entered  the 
room.  He  had  the  aspect  of  an  ascetic  but  experienced 
mariner  in  his  new  garb.  He  bowed  to  Miller  courte- 
ously but  inquiringly.  The  inquiry,  it  was  to  be 
noticed,  was  directed  in  part  towards  Aylmer  and  his 
companion. 

But  Aylmer  offered  no  introduction.  He  drew  forward 
a  chair,  and  placed  it  in  front  of  the  fire. 

"A  good  roasting  after  your  immersion?  Let  me  pre- 
scribe that,"  he  said. 

The  priest  looked  at  him  and  then  gave  a  cry  of 
commiseration. 

"  But  you  yourself,  Signer  —  you  remain  in  your  sod- 
den clothes?" 

"For  a  very  simple  reason,  father,"  said  Aylmer, 
smiling.  "  I  was  taken  prisoner,  but  not  my  luggage.  I 
stand  up  in  my  belongings." 

The  house  began  to  resound  with  the  recriminations 
which  the  priest  addressed  to  Luigi.  Why  had  he  not 
provided  the  cavalier  with  a  suitable  change  of  raiment 
while  his  own  clothes  dried  ?  Why  had  he  not  done  this ; 
why  had  he  not  done  that  ? 


LUIGI'S    HOSPITALITY  277 

The  smuggler  ran  to  and  fro  distractedly.  A  jersey 
came  from  one  press.  A  shirt  from  another.  A  cup- 
board supplied  trousers;  a  deplorable  collar  which  had 
had  no  recent  acquaintance  with  a  laundry  was  even 
offered  and  declined.  Aylmer  retired  into  the  adjoining 
room,  and  Landon,  on  his  return,  with  imperturbable 
aplomb  received  and  began  to  dry  the  wet  clothes  he  had 
taken  off.  Miller  reviewed  these  proceedings  with  un- 
qualified amazement.  Offered  no  key  to  the  position, 
he  proceeded  to  probe  for  one. 

"Your  reverence  has  voyaged  far?"  he  hazarded. 

"More  miles  than  I  care  to  remember,  Signer,"  said 
the  other,  courteously.  "But  ever,  alas,  in  a  circle.  My 
peregrinations  have  been  bounded,  ever  since  my  ordi- 
nation, by  Naples  on  the  north  and  Palermo  or  Messina 
in  the  south.  I  see  much  earth  and  sky  and  water,  es- 
pecially the  latter,  but  I  add  nothing  to  geography.  I 
am  amphibious,  that  is  all." 

His  "ordination"?  The  gleam  of  discovery  woke  in 
Miller's  eyes.  A  priest,  was  it?  But  the  presence  of 
Aylmer  and  Miss  Van  Arlen  —  how  was  that  to  be  ex- 
plained? And  how  far  had  the  newcomer  gauged  the 
situation. 

"Your  reverence  finds  in  us  unexpected  additions  to 
your  flock,"  he  said.  "The  population  of  Salicudi  has 
increased  since  you  last  visited  it." 

"To  my  very  natural  satisfaction,"  said  Sigismondi, 
imperturbably.  He  looked  at  the  steaming  bowl  of  po- 
lenta and  the  coffee-pot  which  Luigi  had  set  upon  the 
table.  Emmanuele  came  in,  wrapped  in  a  sheepskin 
coat  and  grinning  at  the  food  expectantly.  His  master 
greeted  him  with  a  nod.  "It  appears  that  we  are  to 
feast  and  feast  alone,  my  son,"  he  said.  "These  friends 


378  THE    PURSUIT 

of  ours  insist  on  having  dined  two  hours  ago.    May  the 
Blessed  bless  to  us  this  refreshment." 

He  seated  himself  and  began  to  eat  slowly,  but  with 
relish. 

"Heat  is  a  great  tonic,"  he  remarked  reflectively. 
"The  contents  of  this  bowl  and,  above  all,  of  this  ad- 
mirable coffee-pot,  will  erase  the  remembrance  of  the 
discomforts  of  the  night.  And  then  sleep,  but  not  too 
much  of  it.  Luigi,  my  friend,  we  must  be  off  at  dawn." 

The  smuggler's  eyebrows  rose  into  arcs. 

"How,  Reverence?"  he  exclaimed.  "At  dawn,  and 
whither,  if  you  please? " 

"  By  way  of  Celsa,  where  an  infant  awaits  baptism  — 
and  my  friends,  I  dare  to  hope,  will  excuse  the  short 
delay  —  to  Messina.    Where  else,  my  good  Luigi  ?    That 
surely  is  the  place  where  your  guests  can  most  conven- 
iently adjust  their  misunderstandings." 

The  smuggler  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  am  at  your  service,  father,"  he  said,  and  looked 
vacantly  at  the  opposite  wall.  But  the  tail  of  his  eye, 
Aylmer  noted,  was  on  Landon.  Was  there  a  message, 
or  inquiry,  in  it  ? 

"All  of  us,"  said  Landon,  smoothly,  "must  find  your 
proposition  a  very  practical  one.  May  I  hasten  to  add 
my  approval  of  it?" 

He  looked  smilingly  at  Aylmer,  at  Claire,  lastly  at 
Muhammed.     The  Moor  —  was  it  Aylmer's  fancy  ?  — 
answered  with  a  tiny  nod.    There  was  sarcasm  in  this 
glance  of  Landon's ;  there  was  menace ;   there  was  —  so 
Aylmer  told  himself  —  malignant  triumph. 

Padre  Sigismondi  nodded  absently.  He  presented  his 
coffee-cup  to  the  Moor  to  be  refilled,  and  as  the  brown 
liquid  ran  from  the  spout,  watched  it  with  a  slow,  stolid 


LUIGI'S    HOSPITALITY  279 

abstraction.  His  mental  alertness  seemed  to  be  relaxing 
with  physical  refreshment.  He  offered  no  further  re- 
marks ;  he  plied  his  spoon  upon  the  polenta  slowly,  and 
yet  more  slowly. 

Suddenly  Emmanuele,  the  sailor,  dropped  his  cup  in 
the  act  of  taking  a  more  than  usually  copious  draught. 
He  looked  stupidly  at  the  coarse  crockery  as  it  broke 
upon  the  floor. 

Sigismondi  shook  a  finger  at  him,  a  finger  which, 
somehow,  he  seemed  to  have  under  no  proper  command. 
" Careless  one !"  he  mumbled.  "Careless  one!  Where 
are  your  manners  ?"  And  then,  suddenly,  as  if  he  heaved 
back  a  weight,  he  rose  unsteadily  to  his  feet.  He  threat- 
ened Luigi  with  his  clenched  fist. 

"Traitorous  dog!"  he  cried,  and  fell  senseless  to  the 
floor. 

His  companion  stared  at  him  stupidly,  plunged  for- 
ward as  if  to  bring  him  aid,  and  then  fell,  too,  at  his  feet 
The  pair  lay  where  they  had  fallen,  unmoving. 

At  the  back  of  the  room  Landon  broke  out  into  pleas- 
ant laughter. 

Aylmer  darted  forward  and  bent  to  shake  Sigismondi 
fiercely  by  the  shoulder.  Claire  cried  to  him  warningly. 

Too  late ! 

Landon  and  Luigi  had  flung  themselves  upon  him 
from  behind.  Muhammed  had  dropped  a  looped  cord 
across  his  shoulders.  There  was  a  moment's  confusion 

—  the  corner  of  the  table  smashed  under  a  chance  blow 

—  and  then  stillness.     Lashed  with  cords  into  rigidity, 
Aylmer  lay  upon  the  planks,  and  Landon,  gazing  down, 
spat  upon  his  upturned  face. 

"You  clever  fool!"  he  derided.  "To  think  to  have 
cornered  me  —  me ! " 


a8o  THE    PURSUIT 

He  looked  rapidly  at  his  watch  and  turned  to  Luigi. 

"It  is  five  hours  to  dawn,"  he  said.  "Where  is  it  we 
are  to  take  them?  There  is  no  possibility  for  delay?" 

The  smuggler  threw  out  his  hands  with  an  air  of 
fatalism. 

"The  headquarters  of  the  Society —  there  is  no  other 
place !"  he  said.  "  With  this  wind,  four  hours  or  less  will 
see  us  there.  They  will  charge  a  commission;  you  will 
have  to  bear  with  that.  But  we  shall  have  perfect 
privacy  and,  if  you  will,  perfected  means  of  dealing  with 
this  man's  obstinacy.  And  there  will  be  adepts,  who 
will  give  you  their  assistance  for  the  pleasure  of  the 
thing." 

Landon  nodded. 

"Do  you  hear,  my  friend,  do  you  hear?"  he  cried, 
thrusting  his  foot  against  Aylmer's  cheek.  "You  have 
wriggled  well  in  my  coils  —  I  grant  you  that.  You  have 
twisted  and,  for  the  moment,  escape  seemed  open  — 
wide  open  —  before  you.  But  against  me  ?  No  one  pre- 
vails there,  no  one!" 

"One  may  —  yet." 

The  voice  was  Claire's.    Landon  wheeled  towards  her. 

"That  shows  a  very  determined  optimism,  sister-in- 
law,"  he  said.  "And  who,  if  the  knowledge  is  not 
privileged?" 

"  God,"  she  said  quietly,  and  met  his  eyes  unflinchingly. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
FATE'S  FINAL  WORD 

STORM,  darkness,  despair  —  these  had  been  the 
sole  comrades  for  the  two  who  lay  bound  in  their 
old  quarters  in  the  Santa  Margarita's  lazaret.  Within 
a  few  minutes  of  the  moment  in  which  Padre  Sigismondi 
had  succumbed  to  the  islander's  treacherous  hospitality, 
those  who  had  sought  his  protection  had  been  prison- 
ers once  more,  and  the  felucca's  mast  had  been  stepped 
anew.  For  three  hours  it  had  bent  before  the  strength 
of  the  northern  wind  —  the  hot,  oppressive  breath  which 
seemed  to  blow  no  longer  from  Nature's  lips  but  in  her 
very  face.  For  it  was  an  unnatural  wind  —  in  tempera- 
ture, in  the  quarter  from  which  it  came,  in  dampness. 
The  rigging  slackened  in  the  humid  gusts,  but  the  great 
sail  bellied  out  magnificently.  They  had  torn  across 
the  broad  waste  of  waters  at  racing  speed.  Captain 
Luigi  announced  with  legitimate  pride  that  they  had 
come  a  matter  of  five  and  fifty  kilometres.  The  land 
loomed  up  before  them  mountainously  a  short  five  miles 
away. 

Landon  peered  into  the  darkness.  Lights  shone  far 
to  the  left  of  their  position  —  lights  in  rows,  lights  white, 
lights  dusky  orange,  and  far  beyond  the  main  mass  of 
the  illumination  one  red  star  which  winked  in  solemn 
intervals. 

"  Messina,"  explained  Luigi,  tersely.  "  The  red  beam  ? 
That  is  the  Faro." 


a82  THE    PURSUIT 

"And  we  land  where?"  asked  Landon. 

"Here,  if  the  Holy  Mother  gives  us  her  protection," 
said  the  skipper,  and  pointed  straight  ahead.  "In 
ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred  there  is  no  difficulty 
about  it.  The  port  police  —  there  are  three  of  them  — 
are  cousins  of  my  own  and,  it  is  needless  to  say,  con- 
trolled by  the  Society.  In  fifteen  minutes  you  will 
see." 

"The  hundredth  chance?"  said  Landon.  "That 
is  —  ?" 

"The  Carbineers,  Signer.  Or  rather  one  Carbineer  — 
Sergeant  Finale,  who  has  been  at  the  bottom  of  many 
an  honest  contrabandist's  misfortune.  Brutta  bestia! 
He  will  not  keep  to  any  ordered  sequence  in  his  goings 
and  comings.  But  the  men  of  the  Society  will  know. 
If  they  answer  our  signals,  all  is  well." 

Landon  looked  at  him  debatingly. 

"Who  is  to  answer  signals  at  this  hour  of  the  night, 
my  good  Luigi  ?  Your  colleagues  will  be  in  their  more 
or  less  virtuous  beds." 

The  smuggler  smiled  a  superior  smile. 

"The  Society  never  sleeps,  Signor,  and  it  has  trained 
the  men  in  its  ranks  to  remember  as  much.  High  on 
the  blank  wall  of  hill  above  the  port  is  a  watch-tower, 
though  only  a  private  dwelling-house  to  all  seeming. 
There  is  a  need  for  the  sons  of  the  Mafia  to  have  an  open 
door  into  Sicily  at  any  moment  of  the  day  or  night." 

He  called  one  of  the  hands  to  the  tiller  as  he  finished 
speaking  and  went  forward.  He  came  back,  holding 
a  ship's  lantern.  There  were  wings  of  glass  on  hinges 
on  either  side  of  it  —  one  red,  one  green. 

He  knelt  and  busied  himself  in  lighting  it  in  the 
shelter  of  the  companion.  The  breeze  had  driven  them 


FATE'S    FINAL    WORD  283 

right  in  under  the  shadow  of  the  land  by  now.  The  steep 
above  the  shore  seemed  almost  to  overhang  them.  Here 
and  there  a  faint  oil  lamp  flickered  along  the  Marina; 
a  larger,  nearer,  and  brighter  gleam  was  evidence  of 
a  tiny  jetty  which  was  washed  by  waves  which  were 
dwindling  under  the  protection  of  the  land. 

Luigi  lifted  his  lamp  and  held  it  clear  of  the  com- 
panion. Rapidly  he  shut  the  green  shield  over  the  un- 
tinted  glass,  as  rapidly  opened  it  again,  shut  the  red 
wing  twice  in  quick  succession,  and  finally  left  the  green 
signal  closed. 

Landon's  eyes  probed  the  darkness.  His  companion 
stood  silent,  his  face  raised  towards  the  hill.  There 
was  no  apprehension  in  his  attitude,  only  expectancy. 

Quite  suddenly  it  seemed  that  the  wind  had  dropped. 
The  shelter  of  the  shore  might  account  for  this  in  part, 
Landon  mused,  but  surely  not  altogether.  It  was  weird, 
in  a  sense,  this  abrupt  alternation  to  perfect  stillness 
after  the  uproars  of  the  outer  seas,  but  it  was  not  unpleas- 
ant. It  gave  one  a  sense  of  relaxation;  but  the  heat, 
untempered  by  the  faintest  breath  of  air,  was  incredibly 
oppressive.  December  was  aping  the  temperatures  of 
August. 

Luigi  sighed  contentedly  and  spoke. 

"All  is  well,  Signor.  It  remains  to  get  our  merchan- 
dise ashore." 

Landon  became  aware  of  a  blue  speck  of  light  in  the 
darkness  —  a  speck  which  wavered,  grew  to  a  suddenly 
unexpected  point  of  brightness  and  disappeared.  So 
quickly  did  it  come  and  go,  so  evanescent  was  its  effect, 
that  none  but  those  who  searched  for  it  would  have  been 
likely  to  give  its  appearance  a  second  thought.  It  might 
have  been  caused  by  the  passing  of  a  candle  behind 


284  THE    PURSUIT 

one  of  the  many  panes  of  frosted  glass  which  disfigure 
Italian  villas  in  villeggiatura. 

Luigi  gave  an  order.  The  two  deck  hands  clutched 
the  halliards.  The  sail  was  lowered.  A  moment  later 
the  anchor  set  the  ripples  herding  towards  the  shore  as 
it  plunged  into  the  calm  below  the  jetty.  Landon  and 
his  companion  descended  to  the  cabin. 

Stretched  on  a  bunk  was  Miller,  sleeping  the  sleep  of 
the  justly  tired.  He  roused  himself  at  their  touch  and 
sat  up.  He  looked  about  him  meditatively. 

"The  wind  has  dropped,  absolutely?"  he  said. 
"Since  when?" 

"Half  an  hour  ago.  We  are  in  port,"  said  Landon. 
"We  are  ready  to  land,  when  you  will." 

The  gray  man  smoothed  the  creases  in  his  gray 
coat. 

"When  /  will?"  he  repeated.  "I  am  a  prisoner  — 
the  captive  of  your  bow  and  spear."  He  smiled  with 
sombre  sarcasm. 

"That  position  is  to  be  maintained?"  asked  Landon. 

"Naturally.  Your  cousin  may  make  my  continued 
residence  in  Gibraltar  well-nigh  impossible,  otherwise." 

"My  cousin?"  Landon  repeated  the  words  with  a 
certain  doubtfulness.  "He  is  my  cousin,"  he  said 
slowly,  "and  we  sha'  n't  break  one  of  his  blood  except 
in  one  way.  It  's  the  girl,  remember,  that  is  our  strong 
suit.  There's  to  be  no  bleating  about  that.  To  win, 
the  trick  has  to  be  taken  with  her  alone." 

Miller  nodded  woodenly. 

"If  I  had  the  inclination  to  interfere,  I  have  not  the 
power,"  he  said.  "Do  you  forget  that  I  am  a  prisoner, 
like  herself?" 

"Yes,"  said  Landon,  and  there  was  more  than  doubt 


FATE'S    FINAL    WORD  285 

in  his  expression  this  time,  there  was  suspicion.  "I 
forget  it  all  the  time.  I  want  your  assurance  that  you 
won't!" 

Miller  made  a  gesture  of  assent. 

"Let  's  get  on,"  he  said.  "I  understand  that  it  's 
within  a  couple  of  hours  of  dawn." 

For  an  instant  Landon  hesitated.  Then,  with  Luigi 
at  his  heels,  he  entered  the  lazaret.  Neither  of  them 
spoke.  They  bent  and  lifted  Aylmer  methodically, 
holding  him  by  his  shoulders  and  his  lashed  ankles. 
They  bore  him  on  deck.  They  gagged  him  with  the 
cork  float  of  a  fishing-net  and  left  him,  stark  and  mo- 
tionless as  a  log.  They  turned  back  to  the  cabin,  and 
a  minute  later  placed  Claire  Van  Arlen  beside  him,  as 
helpless  as  himself. 

The  dingy  —  a  new  one,  picked  up  in  the  island  — 
was  lowered.  The  prisoners  were  thrust  beneath  the 
seats.  A  deck  hand  and  Muhammed  took  their  places 
at  the  oars.  Luigi  steered;  the  child,  half  asleep  and 
wrapped  in  a  blanket,  drowsed  at  his  feet.  Miller  and 
Landon  sat  on  the  thwarts. 

The  two  rowers  dipped  their  oars  without  splashing 
in  long,  slow  strokes.  The  thole-pins  were  muffled  with 
rags.  The  boat  stole  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  jetty 
into  the  darkness  which  hid  the  port.  It  was  noiseless, 
ghost-like,  this  entry  into  the  little  haven.  To  the  two 
dumb  prisoners  who  lay  along  the  bottom  of  the  boat  it 
was  ominous  of  hope  entirely  lost. 

They  stifled  under  the  cloaks  which  hid  them;  the 
perspiration  dripped  from  the  rowers,  despite  the  un- 
hurried nature  of  their  work.  The  weight  of  a  dozen 
atmospheres  seemed  to  have  replaced  the  exhilarating 
breath  which  Sicily  flings  seaward  from  her  sun-brimmed 


286  THE    PURSUIT 

shores.  Luigi,  at  the  helm,  gasped  and  passed  his  hand 
across  his  eyes. 

"Thunder  in  December!  Not  natural,  Signor,  but 
that  is  what  we  must  expect.  I  suffocate.  Per  Dio! 
The  bay  is  an  oven." 

He  let  the  prow  nose  in  towards  the  jetty.  Moored 
boats  began  to  appear  dimly,  right  and  left  of  them. 
The  lamplight  from  the  Marina  showed  an  empty 
quay.  Luigi  steered  for  the  shadow  cast  by  a  shed, 
and  took  the  ground  silently  on  a  strand  of  mud  and 


The  deck  hand  drew  in  his  oar  and  skipped  nimbly 
ashore.  Muhammed  followed  him.  They  both  laid 
their  hands  upon  the  painter.  They  bent  their  backs 
to  haul. 

Two  shadows  appeared  right  and  left  of  them,  shadows 
which  seemed  to  have  detached  themselves  from  the 
framework  of  the  shed.  Something  clicked.  A  yellow 
beam  flared  out,  full  on  Luigi's  face. 

He  gasped,  he  yelled. 

"  God's  Mother  —  the  Carbineers ! " 

Landon  leaped  to  his  feet  with  a  curse.  He  seized  an 
oar;  he  thrust  with  all  his  strength  at  the  mud.  And 
at  the  same  moment  the  two  on  the  shore,  struggling  in 
their  captor's  hands,  let  fall  the  painter.  The  boat  shot 
out  stern  foremost  into  deep  water. 

From  the  shore  came  the  sound  of  a  struggle  and  then 
Muhammed's  voice,  shrill  in  explanation. 

"Signari!  Signori!  I  am  not  a  contrabandist!  I  am 
a  tourist;  I  can  prove  it;  I  wish  to  offer  no  resistance; 
I  place  myself  in  your  hands,  freely." 

There  was  a  grim  laugh,  and  then  the  yellow  beam  of 
light  which  had  been  withdrawn  while  the  struggle  pro- 


FATE'S    FINAL    WORD  287 

ceeded,  flung  out  its  level  rays  again  and  illuminated  the 
boat. 

"Surrender,  Luigi!"  shouted  a  stern  voice.  There 
was  another  click.  "Surrender,  stujrido!  I  have  you 
covered ;  I  give  you  five  seconds  before  I  fire ! " 

The  shrill  voice  of  the  captured  sailor  reinforced  the 
argument. 

"It  is  over  —  finished,"  he  shouted  pessimistically. 
"It  is  Finale;  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  done !" 

Luigi  groaned  and  then  flung  up  his  hands. 

"I  give  in!"  he  cried,  and  burst  into  a  storm  of 
hysterical  sobs.  "It  means  Procida  —  this,"  he  wept. 
"It  means  years  in  chains;  it  means  half  the  rest  of  my 
life  snatched  from  me."  He  turned  and  smote  at  Landon 
in  the  darkness.  "I  owe  it  to  you,  tempter!"  he  yelled. 
"Accursed  of  God,  you  led  me  into  this!" 

Landon  stumbled  in  his  surprise  and  then  leaped  at 
him  like  a  cat.  There  was  a  shrill  scream  from  the  child 
as  the  swaying  pair  rolled  down  upon  the  stern  sheets, 
gripping,  each  of  them,  for  the  other's  throat.  The  boat 
rocked  violently. 

Again  the  stern  command  from  the  shore  rang  into 
the  night.  They  gave  it  no  heed.  Animal  rage  possessed 
them ;  they  were  no  longer  men  but  beasts,  fighting  with 
hand  and  foot  and  knee,  clawing,  tearing,  even  biting 
as  the  chance  of  conflict  brought  Luigi 's  lips  within 
reach  of  his  assailant's  cheek.  They  were  lost  to  all 
human  warning  or  control. 

It  was  no  human  interference  which  separated 
them. 

Fate  played  her  hand  —  played  it  irresistibly,  crush- 
ingly,  played  it  with  a  vindictive  completeness  such  as 
even  she  has  never  used  since  her  grip  fell  upon  her 


288  THE    PURSUIT 

plaything  —  that  toy  of  hers  among  a  million  million 
toys,  and  which  we  call  our  world. 

A  roar,  terrific,  growing,  menacing,  filling  the  echoes, 
brimming  the  heavy  air,  rolling  out  across  the  still 
waters  of  the  bay,  thundered  into  the  silence  of  the 
shore.  The  dim  lamps  upon  the  Marina  shook;  crash 
upon  crash  echoed  from  buildings  which  could  not  be 
seen,  but  which  terror  could  picture  in  all  the  crude 
pigments  of  imagination  and  despair!  Beside  the  boat 
a  huge  crack  rent  the  jetty  in  twain.  Stones,  dashed 
from  the  crumbling  buildings  in  the  darkness,  flung 
huge  gouts  of  spray  over  the  two  who  wrenched  them- 
selves apart  in  her  stern,  over  their  prisoners,  over  the 
child,  who  cried  aloud  in  all  the  agony  of  childish  fear. 

And  then  human  voices  joined  the  chorus  —  voices 
which  expressed  every  intonation  of  panic,  of  the  horror 
which  is  built  upon  amazement,  of  the  unleashed  emo- 
tions of  men  awaking  to  meet  blindly  the  common 
hazards  of  life  and  confronting  chaos,  illimitable  ruin, 
a  sudden  unbarring  of  the  gates  of  Hell. 

The  struggle  in  the  boat  ceased.  Wild  curses  became, 
on  Luigi's  lips,  a  string  of  piteous  appeals  to  the  very 
saints  whose  names  he  had  used  a  moment  before  to 
point  his  blasphemies.  Miller  and  Landon  grasped  the 
oars. 

But  even  the  terrors  of  earthquake  do  not  wreck  the 
discipline  of  Italy's  Carbineers.  The  sergeant's  warning 
was  repeated  thunderously. 

Miller  screamed  an  assent,  a  surrender.  Landon  an- 
swered with  an  oath.  The  one  endeavored  to  propel 
the  boat  shorewards,  the  other  towards  the  sea.  It  spun 
between  their  efforts;  they  yelled  and  gesticulated 
madly. 


FATE'S    FINAL    WORD  289 

And  again  the  sergeant's  voice  was  heard,  with  a  hun- 
dred other  voices,  appealing  to  a  God  whose  mercy  was 
surely  turned  away. 

For  a  moaning  sound  tingled  along  the  strand,  and 
then  silently,  but  with  the  speed  of  a  cataract,  the  sea 
sank  back  from  the  shore. 

It  plucked  half  a  hundred  boats  from  their  anchor- 
ages; it  gripped  them  down  into  its  trough.  For  full 
thirty  seconds  they  fled  upon  this  monstrous  tide  of  a 
tideless  sea,  hull  crashing  against  hull,  mast  beating 
against  mast,  a  wrecked  wilderness  of  spars  and  rigging, 
tangled,  coiled,  the  froth,  the  scum,  as  it  were,  upon 
that  mighty  crest.  And  behind  them  went  the  Santa 
Margarita's  dingy,  with  bound  and  free  in  equal 
helplessness. 

Then,  as  if  the  sluice  of  some  Cyclopean  lock  had  been 
shut,  the  mighty  mill-race  halted  and  a  mountain  grew 
upon  the  face  of  the  deep.  Huge,  black,  awesome,  it 
swung  itself  up,  swelled  higher  and  higher,  hung  through 
an  aeon-long  moment  of  horror,  and  then  rolled  back 
whence  it  had  come.  And  the  menace  of  its  coming  left 
no  tiniest  coign  of  foothold  for  hope  in  its  path.  Irre- 
sistible and  relentless  it  moved  along  to  destroy  every 
barrier  of  nature,  every  man-built  obstacle  with  its 
might.  Its  foam-plumed  crest  roared  over  the  quayside 
and  the  Marina  five  fathoms  deep. 

Like  a  chip  upon  the  surface  of  a  torrent  which  sud- 
denly hastens  to  the  brink  of  the  cascade,  the  boat  and 
its  burden  of  lives  was  snatched  along.  The  three  who 
stood  and  gripped  its  gunwale  saw  the  broad  expanse 
of  the  Marina  before  them,  saw  it  seem  to  sink  as  they 
themselves  rose  upon  the  flood,  saw  how  they  raced 
across  it  twenty  feet  above  the  level  of  its  flags.  And 

19 


29o  THE    PURSUIT 

they  saw  more  —  saw  it  with  eyes  which  seemed  to  sear 
their  brains  with  anticipation,  with  despair. 

This! 

A  long,  irregular,  deep-fronted  row  of  dwellings, 
square  to  the  sea,  square  to  the  reeling  ridge  of  ocean 
which  was  sweeping  upon  them  as  the  gust  sweeps  down 
upon  the  far-flung  autumn  leaves. 

They  called  aloud  in  chorus;  they  challenged  Fate 
with  their  despair.  And  Fate  replied. 

The  waters  reached  the  walls ;  the  huge  sheet  of  spray 
shot  high  into  the  night.  But  the  dingy  passed  on 
uncrushed. 

An  alley  opened  before  them  —  an  alley  through 
which  they  shot  on  the  roaring  tide  into  the  square  be- 
yond, sank  down  as  the  dwindling  waters  sank  and 
with  their  last  effort  of  destruction  reached,  and  were 
borne  into  an  arched  opening  girt  about  with  trees. 
And  then  that,  in  its  turn,  became  a  ruin  of  plaster 
and  planks  and  stone.  The  wave  completed  what  the 
earthquake  had  all  too  thoroughly  begun.  The  roof 
and  walls  crashed  down  into  a  grim  monument  upon  a 
living  grave. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

DAWN  COMES 

OUT  of  the  darkness  of  insensibility  consciousness 
came  slowly  into  being  in  Aylmer's  brain,  but 
memory  lagged  to  join  it.  He  was  bound  —  that  he 
realized,  and  his  teeth  were  immovable  upon  a  gag.  The 
darkness  was  absolute  and  so,  for  the  first  few  minutes 
through  which  his  senses  woke,  was  the  silence.  He 
could  feel  rough  slabs  of  wood  which  cased  his  body  in. 
He  shifted  uneasily  and  beat  his  temple  upon  a  plank. 
The  sweat  of  terror  broke  out  upon  his  brow.  He  was 
buried  alive !  God  help  him !  The  worst  that  could  hap- 
pen to  a  living  soul  was  his  sentence  from  the  lips  of  Fate ! 

Something  whimpered  in  the  darkness;  something 
stirred  beside  his  feet. 

In  a  flash  came  remembrance.  The  awful  moment  of 
disaster  through  which  he  had  been  carried,  blind,  speech- 
less, and  bound,  became  a  picture  in  his  brain  —  a  picture 
the  more  vivid  in  that  actuality  had  been  hidden  from  him 
and  imagination  had  supplied  details  beyond  the  compass 
of  the  real.  He  stirred  afresh,  he  writhed,  his  bound 
wrists  beat  out  upon  the  air. 

The  whimpers  ceased  and  words  followed  —  words  in 
a  child's  voice  shaken  by  fear.  A  trembling  hand  found 
Aylmer's  sleeve,  crept  up  it  to  his  cheek,  and  halted  there 
in  miserable  hesitation. 

"It's  me  —  it's  me!"  whispered  the  voice.  "Can't 
you  speak?  Oh,  can't  you  speak  to  me?" 


aga  THE    PURSUIT 

And  then  the  wandering  fingers  found  the  linen  band 
which  bound  the  gag  into  place  and  was  fastened  behind 
Aylmer's  head. 

"Is  that  why?"  said  the  child  in  eager  discovery.  "Is 
that  why?" 

The  band  cut  into  Aylmer's  cheek  as  the  knot  was 
twitched  with  all  the  awkwardness  of  haste,  but  a  moment 
later  the  pressure  ceased.  He  spat  the  gag  from  between 
his  teeth. 

"Little  John!"  he  cried.  "Little  John!  Are  you 
hurt  ?  are  you  able  to  stand  ?  " 

The  boy  clutched  him  with  a  sort  of  desperation  of 
relief. 

"Oh,  you  can  speak  —  you  can  speak! "he  shouted 
joyously.  "My  head  aches  and  my  shoulder  doesn't 
move  right,  but  I  can  stand.  I  can  reach  nothing  above 
my  head  —  or  right  —  or  left." 

There  was  a  creaking  of  timber  as  he  moved,  stretching 
his  hands,  as  was  evident,  into  the  black  emptiness  about 
the  boat.  Aylmer's  bound  wrists  were  lifted  to  reach  him. 

"Pick  at  them  —  as  you  did  before,  little  John,"  he 
said.  "Loose  me,  so  that  we  can  search  the  darkness 
together." 

The  child's  breath  came  in  zealous  pants  as  he  tugged 
and  pulled,  but  the  knots  were  tightly  lashed  and  sodden 
with  the  sea.  And  his  haste  was  a  handicap ;  he  plucked 
and  twisted  ineffectually.  And  finally  he  overbalanced 
himself  and  slipped. 

He  gave  a  cry  of  pain. 

"I'm  hurted  — I'm  bleeding!"  he  sobbed.  "I  fell 
against  something  that  cut ! " 

Aylmer's  heart  stood  still.  If  the  fall  had  injured  the 
child  severely,  if  it  had  disabled  him,  if  he  were  to  lose 


DAWN    COMES  293 

consciousness  —  was  this  horror  of  helplessness  to  be 
added  to  those  which  already  had  them  in  their  grip  ?  He 
stretched  out  his  arms  towards  the  sound  of  the  sobbing, 
and  this,  as  he  did  so,  suddenly  ceased. 

Panic  gripped  him,  only  to  be  fought  down.  Slowly, 
and  with  painful  effort,  he  twisted  himself  round  in  the 
darkness  till  his  bound  wrists  found  as  their  goal  the 
child's  cap  which  still  covered  his  untidy  mane  of  curls. 
And  these  were  wet  and  sticky. 

The  reason  was  not  far  to  seek.  The  baling  slipper 
lay  below  little  John's  temple — the  baling  slipper 
mended  with  a  rough  strip  of  tin.  And  this  had  cut 
through  cap  and  curls,  down  to  the  bone.  It  had 
finished  what  terror  had  begun.  The  boy  had  fainted. 

Aylmer's  first  impulse  was  to  use  the  whole  of  his  teth- 
ered strength  in  bringing  consciousness  back  to  the  child 
—  to  what  was,  he  considered,  his  only  chance  of  freedom. 
A  moment  later  chance  pointed  a  quicker  road.  His 
knuckles  met  and  were  scarred  by  the  frayed  edge  of  the 
tin.  He  gave  an  exclamation  of  impatience  at  his  own  dul- 
ness.  What  would  cut  him  would  cut  his  bonds.  Crouch- 
ing down  he  managed  to  grip  the  slipper  between  his 
knees  and  steady  it  there.  And  then  he  rasped  his  lash- 
ings upon  its  edge. 

A  minute  sufficed,  or  even  less.  The  cord  frayed,  gave 
strand  by  strand,  and  broke  apart  with  a  twang.  He 
gasped  with  relief  and  fell  to  work  upon  his  ankles.  As 
these  bonds  loosened  and  fell  away  in  their  turn,  he  stood 
up,  rising  slowly  and  stretching  his  hands  above  his  head. 
He  touched  nothing. 

He  sighed  not  only  with  relief,  this  time,  but  with  a 
faint  tinge  of  hope.  And  then  he  bent,  felt  his  way  past 
the  still  motionless  child,  and  touched,  by  chance's  guid- 


294  THE    PURSUIT 

ance,  Claire  Van  Arlen's  hair.  And  he  gave  another  ex- 
clamation of  self-encouragement.  For  her  cheek  was 
warm. 

He  plucked  the  gag  from  her  lips ;  his  hands  were  al- 
ready at  her  wrists  as  she  uttered  his  name.  He  thrilled 
to  the  anxiety  in  her  voice. 

"You?"  she  asked  anxiously.  "You?  You  were  un- 
injured. I  heard  you  speak  and  —  and,  it  seemed,  to  me 
that  you  — flagged  —  that  you  —  were  not  you !" 

"Yes,"  he  answered  quietly.  "I had  not  found  you 
then.  I  did  not  know  —  I  do  not  know  it  yet  —  how 
far  you  yourself  were  unhurt." 

His  fingers  were  unlashing  her  feet  now.  He  heard  her 
stir  into  a  sitting  posture  and,  as  her  feet  were  freed,  felt 
her  rise  to  her  knees.  Instinct  bade  him  thrust  out  a  hand 
as  she  did  so,  and  she  rocked  up  against  it.  Her  energy 
had  been  more  than  her  strength ;  she  leaned  against  him 
panting. 

For  a  full  minute  he  held  her,  feeling  her  pulses  throb 
against  his,  fanned  by  her  breath  that  panted  past  his 
cheek,  one  hand  warm  within  his  own,  one  upon  his  shoul- 
der. And  through  the  darkness  he  sent  out  his  appeal  to 
Fate.  If  the  grim  goddess  had  no  farther  favors  in  her 
store  for  him,  let  her  hand  close  upon  him  there.  Might 
there  be  no  more  weary  struggles;  might  the  end  find 
him  and  the  girl  whose  hand  clung  to  his  in  this  intimate 
protection  at  once.  Let  death  come  in  that  moment, 
and  he  would  ask  no  more. 

Fate  gave  no  answer  and  the  moment  passed. 

She  gave  a  little  sob  and,  still  holding  him,  staggered  to 
her  feet. 

"It  is  the  stiffness,  and  the  long  hours  bound.  And  the 
anxiety  —  for  —  for  you ! "  she  murmured.  "  I  am  un- 


DAWN    COMES  295 

hurt,  indeed  I  am  unhurt.  I  have  scarcely  so  much  as  a 
bruise  upon  me.  And  my  chatelaine  ?  That  is  still  at  my 
waist.  I  have  —  have  matches,  if  the  sea  water  has  spared 
them!" 

Light !  Could  they  pierce  this  wall  of  darkness ;  could 
they  actually  hope  to  see  how  and  where  they  were 
caged?  He  scarcely  dared  to  breathe  as  he  heard  her 
silver  chain  of  trinkets  tinkle,  and  heard  the  rasp  of  the 
match-head  on  the  box.  The  red  spark  sputtered  against 
the  blackness  and  then  flared  into  yellow  being  as  the 
wax  took  flame.  They  looked  about  them  with  more 
than  curiosity.  With  awe. 

High  above  their  head  was  an  arch  of  masonry,  mas- 
sively mortised,  curving  from  a  wall  to  a  row  of  squat, 
solid  pillars ;  and  these  last  flanked  a  pile  of  heaped  rub- 
ble and  stone.  They  were  in  a  passage  some  twenty  feet 
long,  closed  at  each  end  as  the  unwalled  side  was  closed 
by  the  wreck  of  the  house  above.  It  was  a  cloister.  And 
the  open  courtyard  which  it  had  rimmed  was  now  a  stu- 
pendous rubbish  heap,  massed  high  above  their  heads 
with  ruin. 

They  looked  down.  They  still  stood  in  the  boat,  and 
at  Aylmer's  feet  the  child  was  huddled  in  unconsciousness, 
the  blood  still  welling  slowly  from  the  cut  on  his  brow. 
Beyond  them  something  indefinite  and  unrecognizable 
lay  in  a  dark  heap  upon  the  flags. 

Aylmer  stepped  forward  and  bent  over  it 

It  was  the  body  of  a  man,  clothed  in  the  dark,  red- 
striped  uniform  of  the  Carbineers.  His  lips  were  grim 
and  set.  His  right  hand  still  clutched  the  breach  of  a  rifle. 
And  at  his  belt  was  a  lantern  —  the  glass  broken,  but  the 
tin  intact.  Aylmer's  hands  trembled  as  they  fell  upon 
this  prize. 


296  THE    PURSUIT 

He  wheeled  back  to  his  companion  and  touched  the 
flame  against  the  wick.  There  was  a  moment's  suspense, 
and  then  they  sighed  in  chorus.  For  the  oil  was  unspilt. 
For  a  time,  at  least,  darkness  was  not  to  be  among  the 
terrors  which  menaced  them. 

Claire  knelt  and  pulled  the  child  upon  her  knee.  She 
stanched  the  blood;  she  dropped  her  handkerchief  into 
the  little  pool  of  sea  water  which  was  fast  draining  through 
the  wrenched  seams  of  the  boat,  and  gently  laved  the 
unconscious  face.  Little  John  stirred  drowsily,  opened 
his  eyes  reluctantly,  and  looked  up  with  wonder  into  her 
face. 

He  put  his  hand  up  weakly  to  his  temple. 

"  It 's  —  it 's  queer  —  and  —  and  hurty,"  he  whispered. 
"Muhammed?  He  would  make  it  well." 

She  pulled  him  to  her  tenderly. 

"Does  it  hurt  badly?"  she  asked.  "Muhammed 
has  n't  come  to  us  —  yet." 

He  looked  wonderingly  around  him. 

"The  house  —  opened  —  and  let  us  right  in,"  he 
mused.  "We  came  up  on  the  sea  —  right  up  —  as  fast 
as  a  train.  And  Dad  ?  Dad  was  with  us  then." 

She  looked  up  questioriingly  at  Aylmer.  And  he  had 
gathered  up  the  dead  Carbineer's  cloak  and  was  arranging 
it  against  the  stern.  He  made  a  motion  towards  it. 

"Sleep  is  all  the  medicine  we  can  give  him,"  he  advised. 
"Let  him  rest.  Meanwhile  we  must  use  the  light  while  we 
have  it." 

She  nodded  quickly  and  laid  the  child  gently  down.  He 
smiled  at  her  drowsily  again,  whispered  a  half- distinguish- 
able appeal  to  be  told  when  the  Moor  "came  back,"  and 
then  nature's  healing  hand  closed  over  his  eyes.  He  slept 
—  the  deep,  dead  sleep  of  exhaustion. 


DAWN    COMES  297 

Aylmer  raised  the  lamp.  Together  they  paced  the 
length  of  their  prison. 

The  gray  flags  were  bare  except  where  the  Carbineer's 
body  lay.  With  a  little  gesture  of  compassion,  Aylmer 
straightened  the  stiffening  limbs,  and  covered  the  stern, 
unfaltering  face  with  the  dead  man's  handkerchief.  And 
then  they  passed  on,  to  confront  the  hill  of  rubble  which 
closed  the  cloister's  end.  And  here  they  halted,  as  they 
looked  down. 

Claire  shuddered. 

A  gray  sleeve  emerged  from  the  stones  and  an  open 
hand  seemed  to  appeal  for  the  help  which  came  all  too 
late.  Aylmer  dragged  fiercely  at  the  ruined  wall.  A 
block  or  two  became  unseated.  These  shouldered  out 
others  to  rumble  at  their  feet. 

A  gray-clad  body  became  exposed.  They  looked  at  it, 
instinct  preparing  them  to  recognize  what  they  saw. 
Battered  and  disfigured  though  it  was,  they  knew  it  for 
Miller's  face. 

For  a  moment  they  kept  silence,  looking  at  it  fixedly. 
The  eyes  were  open,  but  death  had  wiped  out  from  them 
the  imperturbability  which  they  had  held  through  life. 
Fear  had  gripped  the  gray  man  at  the  last.  Horror  had 
been  with  him  —  even  panic. 

Aylmer  leaned  down  and  covered  the  fear-haunted  eyes. 

"He  has  gone,  and  taken  his  mystery  with  him,"  he 
said.  "What  his  life  was  we  shall  never  ascertain.  What 
led  him  to  betray  us?  That  is  beyond  our  learning.  It 
may  have  been  no  more  than  fear  and  the  desire  to  save 
himself.  I  think  there  was  something  behind  it  all  that 
has  escaped  us,  but "  —  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he 
looked  about  him  —  "what  does  it  matter  now?" 

He  held  the  lantern  at  arm's  length  as  he  spoke,  and 


ag8  THE    PURSUIT 

looked  searchingly  round.  The  gray  stone  ringed  them 
in  relentlessly.  Was  there  any  expedient  in  which  they 
could  find  a  challenge  to  the  arbitrary  decree  of  Fate? 
He  saw  none. 

The  girl  at  his  side  watched  him.  And  then  her  eyes 
met  his.  And  as  he  spoke  his  voice  was  strangely  gentle. 

"  God  interfered  between  Landon  and  his  evil  purpose, 
as  you  said  He  would.  Perhaps,  who  knows,  He  may  have 
other  mercies  reserved  for  us.  But  in  any  case  we  must 
teach  each  other  to  be  strong." 

She  nodded  gravely. 

"We  are  in  His  hands,"  she  said,  "and  nothing  can  be 
as  terrible  as  what  was  threatened  us  by  that  vile  man. 
The  boy  is  safe.  I  have  the  help  of  your  presence.  We 
must  kill  imagination  with  work." 

He  looked  about  him  again,  doubtfully. 

"Work?"  he  questioned.  "Have  we  the  chance  to 
work?" 

"Isn't  it  obvious,"  she  said.  "That  is  a  courtyard. 
Above  the  ruins  which  brim  it  is  the  sky.  If  we  use  our 
strength  and  time  to  pluck  a  way  through  that  to  life  again, 
we  shall,  at  least,  not  think." 

He  paced  forward  a  yard  or  two  and  examined  the 
heaped  wreckage  of  plaster,  wooden  beams,  and  stones. 
He  hesitated. 

"If  we  disturb  it,  there  is  just  a  chance  of  making  our 
situation  worse,"  he  hazarded. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No,"  she  said  significantly.  "Not  worse.  God 
might  answer  us  that  way,  and  save  us  suspense.  And 
we  shall,  at  any  rate,  have  defied  Fate  to  the  end." 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  In  that  I  am  with  you ;  we  will  do  our 
best  —  to  the  last.  And  if  God's  purpose  falls  upon  us 


DAWN    COMES  299 

quickly,  Claire,  I  thank  Him  here  and  now  that  He  has 
permitted  me  to  share  this  bitter  cup  with  you,  instead  of 
draining  that  more  bitter  one  which  threatened  an  hour 
ago.  At  least  I  am  not  leaving  you  in  Landon's  hands, 
alone." 

"And  I  am  not  helpless  while  they  work  their  vile  wills 
upon  you,"  she  answered.  "Fate  has  been  cruel  enough, 
but  she  has  spared  us  that.  The  end  ?  That  is  still  her 
mystery.  Let  us  forget  it." 

He  smiled. 

"There  is  much  I  can  remember  which  will  spare  me 
that.  What  you  have  been  and  done  for  me  these  last 
wild  days  —  my  memory  will  occupy  itself  with  that  and 
hope  —  while  I  work  to  make  hope  true." 

And  then,  still  smiling  as  if  he  had  plumbed  the  eyes  of 
Hope  and  found  in  them  an  answering  smile,  he  laid  the 
lantern  on  the  flags  and  put  his  hands  upon  the  barrier 
of  ruin  which  faced  him. 

He  toiled  vigorously  but  with  caution.  As  he  rolled  the 
larger  blocks  from  their  resting-place,  he  was  quick  to 
notice  and  to  support  the  beams  or  flagstones  which  they 
had  buttressed  with  their  weight.  And  he  used  the  first 
plank  which  tumbled  out  of  the  chaos  as  a  lever  upon  its 
fellows.  At  his  feet  Claire  worked  vigorously,  sweeping 
out  the  plaster  which  filled  the  openings  as  he  made  them, 
rolling  aside  the  unseated  stones  to  give  him  room,  lend- 
ing her  lesser  strength  to  aid  his,  when  some  task  was 
trying  his  powers  to  the  -utmost. 

For  a  couple  of  hours  they  toiled  silently,  and  a  gap  had 
been  hewn  into  the  debris  —  a  gap  which  seemed  to  be 
ceaselessly  filled  as  the  accumulations  rolled  into  it  from 
above,  but  an  opening,  nevertheless,  which  spoke  of  prog- 
ress, which  showed  a  reward  for  effort,  which  even  pic- 


300  THE    PURSUIT 

tured,  faintly  and  indistinctly,  a  vision  of  hope.  If  their 
strength  lasted  ?  Was  there  not  a  chance,  a  tiny,  elusive, 
but  possible  chance  ? 

It  was  the  remembrance  that  uninterrupted  effort  would 
fatigue  them  to  a  point  where  their  strength  would  be  taxed 
beyond  recovery  which  made  Aylmer  at  last  call  a  halt. 
They  went  and  sat  beside  the  sleeping  child.  To  economize 
the  light,  they  extinguished  the  lamp. 

And  then  —  they  rubbed  their  eyes. 

A  tiny  beam  of  light,  dim,  faint,  gray  but  distinguish- 
able, was  filtered  down  into  their  prison  at  the  point  where 
one  of  the  cloister  pillars  reached  an  arch.  It  fell  upon 
the  flags  in  a  little  circle. 

Aylmer  reached  it  in  two  strides.  He  gave  an  excla- 
mation. 

"It  is  a  pipe  from  the  spouting  of  the  roof,"  he  cried. 
"  I  see  the  sky.  I  see  the  sky ! " 

She  was  at  his  side  in  an  instant.  In  her  turn  she 
looked  up  into  the  hollow  of  the  tube,  to  see  light.  She 
gave  a  little  gasp. 

"  It 's  wonderful  —  wonderful ! "  she  breathed.  "  Only 
that  little  way  up  —  ten  feet,  twelve,  perhaps,  and  free- 
dom. And  we  are  here ! " 

"It  means  two  things  of  infinite  importance!"  he  re- 
joined. "Air  and,  in  all  probability,  water.  If  the  gutter 
which  discharges  into  this  is  still  intact,  we  shall  receive 
the  rain  when  it  comes.  And  after  earthquake  it  comes, 
invariably." 

She  was  not  paying  him  attention.  Her  eye  was  still 
fixed  below  the  tiny  opening;  she  continued  to  look  up  as 
if  the  tiny  disc  of  brightness  fascinated  her,  as  if  she 
would  drink  draughts  of  the  outer  air  thus  delivered  to 
them  as  if  from  an  immense  cistern. 


DAWN    COMES  301 

And  then  the  emotion  of  sudden  discovery  illumi- 
nated her  face. 

"We  can  signal!"  she  cried.  "We  can  attract  at- 
tention !  We  have  only  to  thrust  a  rod  up  through  that, 
and  it  will  tell  our  tale.  Surely  there  are  rescuers  at 
work  by  now ;  a  whole  city  cannot  be  left  to  its  fate ! " 

His  eyes  glistened. 

"God  sent  that  thought  to  you  —  God  himself!"  he 
cried.  "We  must  have  a  rod;  we  must  make  one!" 
He  turned  and  re-lit  the  lantern.  He  examined  the 
splintered  woodwork  of  the  boat  with  a  calculating  eye. 

Wood  was  at  their  service  in  plenty,  but  the  tools  to 
deal  with  it  were  wanting.  Neither  of  them  possessed  a 
knife.  He  searched  the  pockets  of  the  dead,  but  had  no 
success.  For  a  moment  they  stood  regarding  each  other 
in  incredulous  despair.  Surely  Fate,  after  bracing  them 
with  this  hope,  was  not  going  to  torture  them  by  with- 
drawal? And  then  Aylmer's  eye  fell  upon  the  baling 
slipper. 

He  lifted  it  with  a  gesture  of  relief;  he  tore  the  strip 
of  tin  from  off  it  and  held  it  up. 

"That  is  our  blade!"  he  cried.  "We  have  only  to 
pare  down  splinters  till  they  will  pass  through  the  pipe, 
and  the  thing  is  done." 

He  picked  up  a  piece  of  planking  as  he  spoke,  worked 
the  metal  into  the  grain  till  a  split  began  to  gape,  and 
then,  wrapping  a  piece  of  tarpaulin  round  each  end  of 
his  impromptu  blade,  worked  it  to  and  fro  and  down- 
wards. A  thin  sliver  of  wood  was  the  result  —  one 
about  eighteen  inches  long. 

He  repeated  the  operation,  slowly  and  carefully.  As 
each  lath  was  split  and  pared,  he  passed  it  to  his  com- 
panion and  she  spliced  the  ends  with  strips  of  gray  cloth. 


302  THE    PURSUIT 

And  these?  Aylmer  took  them  from  the  dead  body  at 
the  end  of  the  cloister.  Miller,  in  death,  was  helping 
to  repair  some  of  the  injuries  for  which  his  life  was 
responsible. 

They  worked  methodically,  without  haste,  but  with 
every  care.  Two  hours  later  they  had  a  twelve-foot  staff 
laid  out  at  their  feet.  To  the  top  they  attached  a  little 
flag,  also  of  gray.  They  divided  it  into  halves,  thrust 
the  upper  half  into  the  pipe,  attached  the  lower  one  to 
it,  and  then  pushed  the  whole  upwards  to  the  full  ex- 
tent of  Aylmer's  reach.  Claire  peered  anxiously  into 
the  hole.  She  gave  a  great  cry  of  relief ;  her  eyes  filled 
with  sudden  tears. 

"The  flag  is  outside!"  she  cried.  "There  is  no  doubt 
of  that;  it  is  a  certainty.  While  it  was  wrapped  round 
the  head  of  the  staff  inside  the  tube,  it  hid  all  light  from 
me.  And  now  light  has  come  again  —  dim,  but  there 
still.  It  slips  down  between  the  staff  and  the  sides. 
The  flag  is  out  in  the  air  —  the  air ! " 

He  nodded. 

"  All  that  remains,  then,  is  to  keep  it  moving  —  to  show 
that  human  beings  are  holding  its  other  end.  We  must 
work  ceaselessly." 

He  looked  round  at  her  as  he  spoke.  Her  eyes  were 
bent  on  him  earnestly,  meditatively.  And  there  was 
something  in  her  gaze  for  which  he  had  no  clue. 

She  spoke,  and  so  supplied  it  herself. 

"I  think  we  shall  be  rescued  now,"  she  said  quietly. 
"I  feel  a  certainty  about  it,  an  instinct.  Yes,  I  think 
we  have  defeated  Fate.  We  shall  come  back  into  life 
again,  you  and  I." 

He  understood.  Through  the  wild  days  in  the  boat 
and  on  the  island,  Fate  had  given  no  chance  for  either 


DAWN    COMES  303 

of  them  to  probe  the  future.  Hope  had  had  so  tiny  a 
place  in  their  thoughts  —  hopelessness  had  so  immeasur- 
ably absorbed  them  all.  And  now?  Was  she  allowing 
herself  to  dwell  on  life  as  it  would  affect  them  untouched 
by  Fate,  and  free?  Was  she  mentally  rearranging  her 
attitude  to  him  ? 

Fate  would  supply  her  own  answer.  He  turned  and 
doggedly  began  to  work  the  flagstaff  up  and  down. 

A  tension  of  silence  was  over  them  as  they  waited. 
The  hours  went  by.  With  a  little  gesture  she  came,  took 
the  pole  from  his  hand,  and  bade  him  rest.  He  sur- 
rendered it  quietly,  spent  ten  minutes  in  massaging  his 
stiffened  muscles,  and  then  took  it  again.  It  was  queer, 
this  sudden  reticence  which  had  arisen  between  them. 
It  was  as  if  while  Fate  delayed  to  speak,  all  other  words 
were  futile.  And  her  answer  might  come  at  any  moment 
or  —  God  help  them  —  not  at  all. 

The  hours  lengthened.  The  thin  rays  which  still  fil- 
tered through  the  half-closed  pipe  grew  dim  and  at  last 
died  altogether.  Night  had  come. 

Aylmer  turned  with  a  little  shrug,  placed  a  plank  be- 
neath the  butt  of  the  staff  to  keep  it  in  position,  and 
came  back  to  the  boat. 

"There  is  no  need  to  fatigue  ourselves  through  the 
darkness,"  he  said.  "Till  daylight  shows  our  flag 
again,  we  had  better  rest,  to  be  strong  for  to-morrow. 
Shall  we  sleep?" 

She  looked  at  him  curiously,  and  then  answered  with 
a  little  nod. 

"Sleep,"  she  agreed.  "You  are  tired,  tired.  And  wake 
strong;  your  strength — God  knows  —  has  been  tried 
enough." 

There  was  something  restrained  in  her  voice;  some- 


304  THE    PURSUIT 

thing  which  again  escaped  his  comprehension,  but  his 
fatigue  was  overmastering.  He  stretched  himself  upon 
a  couple  of  flags.  Sleep  overcame  him  instantly. 

Was  it  a  moment  later  that  he  awoke  in  answer  to 
her  cry?  So  he  believed,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  mid- 
night was  long  past.  She  had  lit  a  match;  she  was 
holding  it  to  the  wick  of  the  lantern. 

Her  eyes  were  wide  and  bright  with  excitement.  She 
pointed  towards  the  pipe. 

"I  could  not  rest!"  she  cried.  "No,  I  could  not 
sleep  and  know  that  rescue  might  be  passing  by.  I 
have  worked  at  the  staff  ceaselessly  and  now!  Now 
it  is  gone ! " 

He  sprang  towards  her. 

"  Gone ! "  he  repeated.    "  Gone ! " 

"They  are  there  —  above  us  —  men  —  men  who  know 
we  are  here.  They  pulled  it  up,  out  of  my  hands ! " 
She  made  a  gesture  which  pled  for  silence.  "Listen!" 
she  cried.  "Listen ! " 

A  tinkling  sound  came  from  the  pipe  and  then  a 
tiny  bottle  sank  into  view,  dangling  from  a  string.  He 
seized  it.  It  was  warm. 

"Soup ! "  he  cried.  " Food !  That  is  their  first  thought 
for  us !  And  I  had  forgotten  that  I  was  starving.  I  had 
forgotten  it  absolutely ! " 

He  held  it  to  her  lips.  She  put  out  her  hand  in  pro- 
test, but  his  gesture  was  inexorable.  She  gave  a  queer 
little  laugh,  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  drank.  He 
took  the  half  she  left  him  and  drank  in  his  turn.  He  tied 
the  bottle  again  to  the  string  and  shook  it.  It  disap- 
peared and  was  lowered  again,  this  time  with  wine.  And 
half  a  dozen  little  rolls  dropped  at  their  feet.  They 
ate,  they  waked  the  child  and  fed  him,  they  sat,  and 


DAWN    COMES  305 

from  above  the  sound  of  pick  and  mattock  in  the  hands 
of  men  who  toiled  furiously  thundered  down  to  them. 
They  speculated  how  and  whence  the  first  sight  of  rescue 
would  appear.  They  laughed  in  high,  excited  tones.  Ex- 
pectancy had  them  in  its  grip  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other 
emotions. 

And  then,  with  a  sudden  roar  and  crash,  an  avalanche 
of  rubble  poured  into  the  hole  which  they  had  dug  into 
the  mass  of  debris.  And  with  it  came  a  man  in  sailor 
uniform  who  mixed  anathema  and  congratulation  in  ex- 
cited but  fluent  French.  He  wept,  he  fell  upon  Aylmer's 
neck  and  embraced  him,  he  kissed  the  child  and  Claire's 
hand.  Slowly  they  toiled  at  his  heels,  helped  by  a  dang- 
ling rope,  out  into  the  red  glare  of  a  dozen  torches 
which  were  held  by  seamen  of  the  French  Marine. 

And  one  of  the  two  officers  who  directed  them  called 
upon  the  name  of  God  and  all  His  saints  to  emphasize 
his  amazement. 

It  was  Rattier  who  held  and  shook  their  hands  a 
hundred  times.  Rattier,  incoherent,  swearing,  every 
vestige  of  his  taciturnity  ravished  from  him  by  emotion, 
plying  them  with  a  thousand  questions,  raining  tears 
upon  little  John  Aylmer's  wondering  face. 

They  reached  the  market  square.  They  looked  upon 
the  ruin  which  covered  the  devastated  earth  in  the  wan 
light  of  the  slowly  coming  dawn. 

Five  miles  away,  swinging  at  her  mooring  opposite 
the  ruined  port  of  Messina  was  a  white-hulled  boat  — 
a  boat  which  they  looked  at  with  wistfully  incredulous 
eyes.  They  whispered  her  name. 

"  The  Morning  Star?"  they  wondered.  "  The  Morning 
Start" 

"What  else?"  cried  the  commandant,  exultantly. 
2'i 


306  THE    PURSUIT 

"That  Spanish  torpedo  boat  —  did  you  think  nothing 
was  to  be  heard  from  her?  You  disappeared.  Two 
days  later  comes  the  news  from  Malaga  of  a  felucca,  go- 
ing east  with  prisoners  on  board.  Would  that  not  induce 
your  father,  Mademoiselle,  to  put  two  and  two  together  ? 
The  Melilla  port  authorities  supplied  the  name  of  that 
felucca  and  her  destination  —  Sicily.  He  arrived  two 
days  back.  I  have  seen  him,  we  spoke  together,  and 
then  God  knows  all  our  energies  and  thoughts  have 
been  with  these  poor  wretches  ashore.  Down  in  Messina 
your  own  countrymen  and  the  Russians  are  doing  mar- 
vels. The  Diom&de  was  the  only  French  ship,  alas,  in 
harbor,  but  we  have  others  coming  from  Tunis,  from 
Algiers,  from  Marseilles.  We  need  every  worker  we  can 
get.  What  you  have  suffered  thousands  are  suffering 
still." 

Aylmer  gave  a  quick,  decided  little  nod.  He  looked 
at  Claire. 

"You  will  let  one  of  these  sailors  see  you  on  board?" 
he  said.  "Paul  will  spare  one  to  escort  you." 

She  looked  at  him,  startled,  a  little  bewildered,  even. 

"And  you?  "she  asked.    "And  you?" 

He  made  a  gesture  towards  the  chaos  which  covered 
shore  and  hill. 

"Can  I  leave  the  work  which  calls  me,  knowing  what 
I  know?"  he  asked.  "Paul  has  put  my  duty  into  words. 
What  I  have  suffered,  others  are  suffering  yet.  Would 
you  think  well  of  me,  if  I  left  it?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  smile  that  told  of  appreci- 
ation, approval,  of  something  (or  was  hope  a  lying 
glass?)  more  than  these. 

"No!"  she  said  quietly.  "No!"  She  hesitated  a 
moment. 


DAWN    COMES  307 

"And  when  I  have  found  my  father,  eased  his  mind, 
delivered  to  him  his  grandchild  whom  he  owes  to  you, 
rested,  made  myself  strong  to  work,  will  you  come  for 
me  to  do  my  part  ?  Will  you  come  —  then  ?  " 

As  the  dawn  rose  over  Messina's  city  of  the  dead,  in 
John  Aylmer's  heart  rose  the  dawn  of  hope  fulfilled. 
Her  eyes?  What  message  did  they  not  give?  He  read 
it  as  plainly  as  he  knew  he  would  read  it  at  their  next 
meeting  —  from  her  lips. 

He  lifted  her  hand.    His  moustache  swept  it. 

"Till    then,    Claire,"    he    whispered.      "Till    then, 
Beloved." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

SHADOWS  GO 

DAWN  flushed  into  full  daylight  as  the  sun  rose 
upon  the  ruined  city.  Morning  dragged  its 
length  to  midday  and  midday  merged  in  afternoon. 
And  the  workers  toiled  on  doggedly,  burrowing,  hewing, 
climbing,  flinging  their  energies,  risking  their  lives, 
against  the  inanimate  barriers  of  destruction.  Italian 
and  Frenchman,  Englishman  and  Russian  vied  with 
each  other  in  deeds  of  humanity  against  the  common 
foe.  Nor  was  that  foe  content  with  the  victory  already 
won.  Further  shocks  furrowed  the  stricken  shores :  ruin 
became  more  complete,  danger  more  menacing,  but  the 
toilers  worked  on. 

Aylmer's  rescuers  had  gone  aboard  their  ship  and  had 
been  replaced  by  a  new  relay.  He  himself  remained. 
The  pressing  needs  of  those  who  lay,  as  he  had  lain,  in 
living  tombs  around  him  were  first  in  his  mind.  But 
another  thought  was  ceaseless.  Certainty  —  that  was 
what  he  asked.  Certainty  of  Landon's  fate.  He  scarcely 
allowed  himself  to  realize  how  he  hoped  —  yearned  —  to 
know  definitely  that  Landon  was  dead.  He  simply  con- 
templated it  as  a  matter  of  completeness,  as  news  that 
would  bring  infinite  relief  to  those  on  board  The  Morning 
Star.  If  he  were  alive  ?  He  set  his  lips  grimly.  Though 
law  was  suspended,  order  out  of  gear,  Landon  should 
meet  his  deserts.  If  not  by  instruments  of  Italian  jus- 


SHADOWS    GO  309 

tice,  then  by  Aylmer's  own  hands  —  by  the  law  of 
retribution,  not  the  law  of  revenge. 

He  dropped  the  mattock  which  he  had  been  wielding. 
He  stood  up  and  straightened  himself,  turning  his  eyes 
from  the  wearying  expanse  of  wreckage  towards  the 
sea. 

A  boat  was  running  up  beside  the  ruined  jetty.  Before 
the  mooring  ropes  were  cast  ashore  a  tall  figure  leaped 
from  it  —  a  figure  clad  in  a  soutane. 

Aylmer  made  an  exclamation,  hesitated,  and  then 
clambered  down  the  walls  and  ran  across  the  uneven 
flags,  holding  out  his  hand. 

Padre  Sigismondi  flung  up  his  arms.  His  gesture  was 
one  of  incredulous  relief. 

"But  the  Signora?"  he  cried,  stricken  with  sudden  ap- 
prehension. He  panted,  his  eyes  were  vivid  with  anxiety. 
"The  Signora?" 

As  Aylmer  answered  with  the  one  vital  word,  the 
priest  cried  aloud  again.  He  lifted  his  face  towards  the 
sky  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

"Safe!"  he  repeated.  "Safe!  If  there  was  a  single 
hope  left  to  me  amid  the  horrors  which  have  overwhelmed 
us,  it  was  that.  I  told  myself  that  God,  who  allowed  me 
to  fail  in  my  duty  to  you  through  my  arrogant  self-con- 
fidence, might  be  saving  you  in  the  midst  of  —  and  by  — 
this  destruction.  When  I  came  to  myself  and  found  you 
gone,  I  writhed.  My  friend,  I  cast  myself  upon  the 
ground  in  the  agonies  of  my  self-reproach.  Not  to  have 
plumbed  the  wicked  devices  of  these  men  —  I,  who  have 
worked  among  them  a  score  of  years ! " 

Aylmer  gripped  his  hand. 

"You,  yourself?"  he  inquired.  "You  come  here  — 
how?" 


310  THE    PURSUIT 

"  One  of  the  many  boats  which  were  speeding  to  Mes- 
sina —  some,  alas,  with  no  charitable  intent,  I  fear  — 
saw  my  signals  and  took  me  off.  And  now?  One 
scarcely  knows  where  to  begin.  How  can  one  confront 
such  a  disaster  with  one's  puny  efforts  ?  God  send  me 
His  strength !  My  own  is  as  water ! " 

A  shout  echoed  to  them  suddenly  from  the  group  of 
sailors.  One  stood  up  and  waved  to  them  with  his 
neckcloth. 

Aylmer  made  an  answering  gesture.  He  took  the 
priest's  arm. 

"Begin  here,  father,"  he  said  quietly.  "Some  of 
those  we  have  found  are  alive,  but  death's  claim,  I  fear, 
is  relaxed  for  no  more  than  an  hour  or  two.  They  need 
your  offices.  It  may  be  for  such  an  one  that  they  are 
signalling  to  us  now." 

They  hurried  across  the  square.  They  climbed  the 
pyramid  of  ruin. 

The  sailors  were  looking  down  at  something  which 
lay  at  their  feet  —  something  brown,  and  white,  and 
vivid  red. 

The  quartermaster  pointed  to  a  crevice  in  the  masonry. 

"There  is  a  hollow,"  he  explained.  "We  pulled  him 
out  by  the  arms,  which  —  God  forgive  us — are  broken. 
There  are  in  there,  perhaps,  others.  His  eyes  imply  it. 
Words  are  beyond  him." 

The  priest  gave  a  startled  exclamation.  Aylmer 
echoed  it.  Disfigured,  battered,  crushed  as  it  was,  they 
recognized  the  figure  in  the  blood-stained  djelab  of 
brown. 

A  growing  dimness  was  clouding  Muhammed's  eyes. 
The  quick  pant  of  his  breathing  weakened  as  they 
watched.  But  a  flash  of  feeling  illuminated  the  pallid 


SHADOWS    GO  311 

features  as  the  Moor's  glance  reached  and  dwelled  upon 
Aylmer's  face. 

His  lips  moved. 

"The  child?"  he  asked  in  a  faint  whisper.  "The 
Sidi  Jan?" 

Padre  Sigismondi  darted  an  inquiring  look  at  his 
companion  and  then  knelt  beside  the  dying  man. 

"The  child  is  well,"  he  answered  gravely.  "Yourself? 
Is  there  no  message  to  give,  no  delivery  of  your  soul 
you  wish  to  make  ?  Time  is  short  for  you.  Use  it,  and 
me,  as  you  wish." 

The  brown  eyes  searched  the  priest's  features  with  a 
queer  disdain,  as  it  seemed  —  or  was  it,  perchance,  com- 
passion. The  stiffening  lips  became  more  grimly  resolute. 

"I  proclaim!"  said  the  Moor.  "I  proclaim  that  there 
is  One  God  —  One  God  — ,"  and  passed,  unfaltering,  to 
meet  Him. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.    Aylmer  broke  it. 

"Perhaps  we  owe  him  more  than  we  think,"  he  said 
slowly.  "The  boy?  That  was  always  his  first  care. 
Perhaps  he  stood  between  the  child  and  harm.  I  believe 
that  he  would  have  done  so  in  the  face  of  the  child's 
father  himself!" 

Sigismondi  drew  a  fold  of  the  djelab  over  the  bruised 
face. 

"The  God  to  whom  he  appealed  is  his  judge,"  he 
said.  "Let  us  leave  it  in  His  hands.  The  living,  now, 
my  friend.  It  is  not  here  that  we  can  concern  ourselves 
with  the  dead." 

They  turned  to  the  sailors.  Half  a  dozen  blocks  had 
been  rolled  from  the  opening,  which  gaped  wide  over  an 
empty  darkness.  The  quartermaster  slung  himself  care- 
fully down  into  it  and  slowly  disappeared. 


312  THE    PURSUIT 

A  moment  later  they  heard  his  voice. 

"A  rope,"  he  demanded.  "Here  is  one  who  is,  at 
least,  warm." 

They  passed  down  a  rope  carefully.  Aylmer's  heart 
became  suddenly  audible  to  himself.  What  would 
appear;  what  had  Fate  still  in  store  for  him? 

Again  the  quartermaster's  voice  echoed  from  the  dark- 
ness with  directions.  The  sailors  bent  their  backs  and 
hauled. 

A  face  appeared  in  the  opening,  travelling  upwards. 

Aylmer  felt  no  surprise.  This  was  the  expected,  the 
inevitable.  Landon  was  dragged  out  into  the  day  — 
Landon  —  alive. 

They  laid  him  silently  at  his  cousin's  feet. 

And  as  Aylmer  looked  down  he  felt  a  thrill  of  what 
must  have  been  nearly  akin  to  sympathy.  God  help  the 
mutilated  wretch ! 

His  arms  hung  beside  him  limp  and  helpless,  the  frac- 
tured bones  distorted  in  hideous  angles.  There  were 
marks  as  of  burns  upon  his  face.  But  the  supreme  hor- 
ror was  in  the  sockets  which  held  nothing  recognizable 
as  human  eyes.  Coals  might  have  lain  within  them  — 
coals  pressed  down  to  find  their  quenching  there. 

He  moaned  ceaselessly,  swinging  himself  from  side  to 
side.  And  then  words  came  slowly,  piteously,  one  by 
one. 

"Oil!"  he  gasped.     "For  God's  sake,  a  little  oil- 
upon  my  eyes ! " 

Sigismondi  shuddered.  Then  he  bent  and  placed  his 
hand  compassionately  on  the  scarred  temple. 

"As  soon  as  it  can  be  found,  my  brother,"  he  said. 
"Try  to  keep  your  courage  while  we  do  our  utmost.  We 
have  to  carry  you  —  where  you  can  be  treated." 


SHADOWS    GO  313 

The  tortured  wretch  moaned  again  and  made  an  in- 
stinctive effort  to  raise  a  hand  to  his  face.  He  shrieked 
as  the  shattered  bones  failed  him,  shrieked  and  cursed  in 
hideous  blasphemies.  His  brain  began  to  wander  upon 
the  border-line  of  delirium. 

"  Hours  —  days  —  weeks,"  he  wailed.  "  Broken  — 
broken !  Immovable  and  always  in  agony  —  burning  — 
my  eyes  —  my  eyes  !  And  the  rain  —  running  over  them 
and  bringing  more  agony  —  and  more  —  and  more.  And 
unable  to  move  a  finger.  My  feet  hanging  in  emptiness 

—  my  hands  crushed  in  upon  me  —  crushed  —  crushed 

—  crushed ! " 

The  quartermaster  made  a  gesture  of  infinite  com- 
passion. 

"The  room  had  been  newly  plastered,  do  you  see?" 
he  whispered.  "  He  was  caught  bodily  —  in  the  closing 
of  the  walls  —  as  a  nutcracker  closes.  And  he  was  held 
and  crushed  —  like  the  nut.  The  lime  was  deep  upon 
his  face  —  and  when  the  rain  came,  washing  it  in  — 
eating  him — "  He  turned  away  with  another  pregnant 
motion  of  his  hands,  as  if  he  put  from  him  the  picture 
which  imagination  conjured  up. 

Aylmer  leaned  down  and  spoke. 

"We  are  going  to  take  you  from  here,"  he  said.  "We 
are  going  to  lift  you.  Be  prepared." 

Landon's  groans  ceased.  His  body  became  suddenly 
rigid  with  attention. 

"  Jack  ?  "  he  whispered  incredulously.    "  Jack  ?  " 

"It  is  I,"  said  Aylmer  gravely.    "I  —  am  unhurt" 

Landon's  face  grew  yet  more  distorted. 

"Claire?"  he  muttered  eagerly.    "Claire  —  is  gone?" 

A  light  gleamed  tempestuously  in  Aylmer's  eyes  and 
then  as  quickly  died.  His  voice  was  even  and  restrained. 


3M  THE    PURSUIT 

"She  is  safe,  and  well,"  he  said.  "She  is  on  her  father's 
yacht." 

An  inarticulate  howl  of  rage  burst  from  Landon's  lips. 
He  rocked  himself  to  and  fro;  he  made  as  if  he  would 
beat  his  broken  hands  upon  the  stones. 

"  God !  If  they  'd  suffered  alongside  me,  if  they  'd 
been  there,  if  they  had  given  me  groan  for  groan,  I 
could  have  stood  it  —  enjoyed  it  —  damn  them,  I  could 
have  laughed  with  the  lime  in  my  eyes,  if  they  'd  been 
there  —  if  they  'd  been  there  1 " 

He  jerked  himself  to  a  sitting  posture;  he  writhed 
backwards  and  forwards.  His  spite  was  a  sort  of  ecstasy, 
possessing  him,  freeing  him,  as  it  seemed,  from  even  the 
sense  of  pain. 

Aylmer  made  a  significant  motion.  He  bent  and 
slipped  his  arms  beneath  Landon's  shoulders.  The 
quartermaster  lifted  his  knees. 

Landon  struggled  in  their  arms. 

"Let  me  be!"  he  cried.  "Let  me  stand.  Damn  you, 
let  me  stand  upon  my  own  feet ! " 

They  hesitated.  Then  with  a  shrug  the  quartermaster 
laid  down  his  burden. 

"This  is  no  place  for  a  blind  man  to  pick  his  way," 
he  remonstrated.  "To  get  down,  Monsieur,  you  have  to 
poise  yourself  along  the  wall  thirty  feet  above  the  square." 

Landon  stood  panting  and  leaning  against  his  cousin. 
The  spasms  of  agony  were  convulsing  his  face. 

"I  will  not  be  carried,"  he  panted.  "I  '11  walk  upon 
my  feet  —  like  a  man." 

They  looked  at  each  other,  hesitating. 

"But  your  arms?"  protested  Aylmer.    "Your  arms?" 

The  breath  hissed  between  Landon's  teeth. 

"My  arms!"  he  repeated.    "God I    If  I  'd  my  arms! 


SHADOWS    GO  315 

You  —  you  must  lead  me  —  carefully  —  carefully.  Put 
your  hand  upon  my  shoulder;  keep  close  —  close." 

For  a  dozen  yards  he  tottered  along,  and  the  sweat 
broke  out  astream  upon  his  scars.  And  then  he  halted, 
and  stumbled. 

The  quartermaster  instinctively  put  a  hand  upon  one 
of  the  broken  wrists.  Landon  shrieked,  and  cursed  him 
hideously. 

"Monsieur  might  have  fallen,"  apologized  the  man. 
"My  excuses,  Monsieur,  but  it  was  so  quick  —  so  near 
—  the  danger.  The  drop  is  sheer,  do  you  see,  sheer  down 
to  the  square." 

Landon  gasped.  "Which  side?"  he  asked  thickly. 
"Which  side?" 

"The  right,"  said  Aylmer.  "Lean  away  from  me, 
inwards,  to  the  left ! " 

Landon  drew  a  deep  breath. 

The  next  instant  he  had  flung  himself  against  Aylmer's 
guiding  hand,  outwards,  to  the  right ! 

For  the  second  time  the  quartermaster  cried  aloud  and 
stretched  out  a  hand.  But  it  was  not  Landon's  sleeve 
which  it  reached,  but  Aylmer's  —  reached  and  gripped  it 
while  the  two  bodies  reeled  upon  the  crumbling  edge 
and  sent  the  flying  blocks  down  to  break  into  powder 
upon  the  solid  flags  below. 

And  then,  where  two  had  struggled,  one  alone  re- 
mained and  clung.  Landon  had  gone.  Like  the  blocks 
he  lay  thirty  feet  below  —  broken. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

FATE  SMILES  AT  LAST 

A  PALL  of  mist  and  driving  rain  closed  upon  the 
city  as  evening  fell,  as  if  Nature  flung  a  veil 
between  herself  and  the  handiwork  of  her  passions. 
Through  it  the  launch  of  the  Diomdde  threaded  the 
network  of  the  shipping. 

Warmly  red  against  the  ghost-like  paintwork,  the  ports 
of  The  Morning  Star  beamed  up  out  of  the  smother. 
Aylmer  held  up  his  hand.  Silently,  with  stopped  en- 
gines, the  boat  slid  up  to  the  accommodation  ladder,  and 
as  silently  Aylmer  swung  himself  aboard. 

With  a  gesture  of  farewell  to  the  boat's  crew  and  one 
of  greeting  to  the  sailor  at  the  gangway  head,  he  passed 
into  the  companion  and  went  below.  In  the  doorway  of 
the  saloon  he  halted. 

Two  figures  sat  at  the  table,  a  picture  book  open  before 
them.  Claire's  arm  was  about  her  little  nephew's  shoul- 
der. His  face  was  turned  up  to  hers,  but  his  finger 
still  pointed  to  the  page  which  they  had  been  studying. 

"And  was  he  brave,  enormously  brave?"  he  was 
asking.  "As  brave  as  —  as  Muhammed  ?" 

"Braver  than  Muhammed,"  she  said  quietly.  "Be- 
cause he  was  —  good." 

He  debated  a  moment. 

"  As  brave  as  the  pig  man,  then  ?  "  he  suggested.  "  He  's 
been  good,  always?" 

Aylmer  stepped  forward. 


FATE    SMILES    AT    LAST  317 

"Not  always,"  he  said  smiling.  "Not  even  often. 
But  just  as  much  as  he  knew  how  to  be." 

The  glances  which  met  his  were  startled  but  full  of 
welcome.  With  a  cackle  of  delight  little  John  ran  from 
his  seat. 

"  It 's  him,  himself  —  the  pig  man ! "  he  cried. 

Aylmer  smiled  and  held  out  his  hand. 

Then  he  turned. 

In  Claire's  eyes  the  surprise  had  vanished.  They  were 
full  of  inquiry,  of  an  agony  of  question.  Her  lips  were 
pale  and  faltered  over  the  words  which  would  not  come. 

He  nodded,  gravely,  significantly. 

She  gave  a  little  gasp.  The  color  rushed  to  her  cheeks, 
flooded  to  her  brow.  As  if  some  strong  chord  of  tension 
had  broken  in  her  breast,  she  leaned  against  the  table, 
quivering. 

"Yes,"  said  Aylmer,  quietly.  "That  shadow  is  lifted 
from  our  lives.  He  is  gone  —  God's  hand  fell  upon 
him  —  as  you  told  him  it  would.  The  future  of  this 
life,"  he  laid  his  fingers  tenderly  upon  the  child's  head, 
"is  in  your  hands  now."  He  paused.  "And  my  life, 
Claire  —  that  is  yours,  too,  to  deal  with,  as  you  will." 

She  lifted  her  head. 

The  wave  of  emotion  had  passed  and  left  her  calm 
again.  The  haggardness,  the  anxious  lines,  were 
smoothed.  Only  in  her  eyes  remained  the  mist  of  un- 
shed tears.  And  as  the  mist  sinks  from  the  face  of 
the  risen  sun,  so  the  shadow  of  passed  sorrow  fled  be- 
fore her  dawning  smile.  Slowly  she  came  towards  him. 

With  a  sigh  of  infinite  content  her  hands  reached  out 
to  —  and  placed  their  surrender  in  —  his. 


Mr.  Oppenheim  s  Latest  Novel 


THE  ILLUSTRIOUS 
PRINCE 


By  E.  PHILLIPS  OPPENHEIM 

Illustrated  by  Will  Foster.        Cloth.        $1.50 


Mr.  Oppenheim's  new  story  is  a  narrative  of  mystery 
and  international  intrigue  that  carries  the  reader  breath- 
less from  page  to  page.  It  is  the  tale  of  the  secret  and 
world-startling  methods  employed  by  the  Emperor  of 
Japan  through  Prince  Maiyo,  his  close  kinsman,  to  ascer- 
tain the  real  reasons  for  the  around-the-  world  cruise  of  the 
American  fleet.  The  American  Ambassador  in  London 
and  the  Duke  of  Denvenham,  an  influential  Englishman, 
work  hand  in  hand  to  circumvent  the  Oriental  plot,  which 
proceeds  mysteriously  to  the  last  page.  From  the  time 
when  Mr.  Hamilton  Fynes  steps  from  the  Lusitania  into  a 
special  tug,  in  his  mad  rush  towards  London,  to  the  very 
end,  the  reader  is  carried  from  deep  mystery  to  tense 
situations,  until  finally  the  explanation  is  reached  in  a 
most  unexpected  and  unusual  climax. 

No  man  of  this  generation  has  so  much  facility  of  ex- 
pression, so  many  technical  resources,  or  so  fine  a  power 
of  narration  as  Mr.  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. — Philadelphia 
Inquirer. 

Mr.  Oppenheim  is  a  past  master  of  the  art  of  construct- 
ing ingenious  plots  and  weaving  them  around  attractive 
characters.  —  London  Morning  Post. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


By  the  Author  of  "  The  Kingdom  of  Earth 


PASSERS-BY 


By  ANTHONY  PARTRIDGE 

With  illustrations  by  Will  Foster.     Cloth.    $1.50 


This  new  novel  by  Anthony  Partridge,  whose  absorbing 
romance,  "The  Kingdom  of  Earth,"  met  with  instant  favor, 
has  London  for  its  scene.  But  when  you  have  read  it 
you  will  admit  that  real  London,  as  well  as  imaginary 
Bergeland,  is  a  source  of  fascinating  romance. 

The  heroine  of  "  Passers-By  "  is  a  street  singer,  Christine, 
who  comes  to  London  accompanied  by  Ambrose  Drake, 
a  hunchback,  with  a  piano  and  a  monkey.  The  fortunes 
of  these  two  are  strangely  linked  with  those  of  an  Eng- 
lish statesman,  the  Marquis  of  Ellingham,  who  in  his 
youth  has  led  a  wild  and  criminal  career  in  Paris  as  the 
leader  of  a  band  Of  thieves  and  gamblers,  the  Black  Foxes. 
Here  is  the  material  for  a  thrilling  tale  in  which  mystery 
breeds  adventure  and  culminates  in  love. 

The  first  chapter  plunges  the  reader  into  an  interest- 
compelling  maze  of  events,  and  the  attention  is  held  to 
the  end  by  a  series  of  dramatic  situations  and  surprises. 

Mr.  Partridge  is  now  reckoned  among  the  favorite  novel- 
ists of  the  day.  His  first  book  was  "  The  Distributors," 
the  story  of  a  great  London  mystery.  Then  came  "The 
Kingdom  of  Earth,"  one  of  the  popular  novels  of  1909. 
"Passers-By  "  is  his  third  book. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


A  Swiftly  Moving  Mystery  Story 


THE  RED  SYMBOL 


By  JOHN   IRONSIDE 

Illustrations  by  F.  C.  Yohn.     12mo.     Cloth.     $1.50 


Here  is  a  tale  of  love,  mystery,  and  adventure,  that 
opens  with  a  rush  and  holds  the  interest  unflagging  to 
the  end.  If  you  like  a  stirring  love  story,  prepare  to  be 
fascinated  by  the  charming  but  baffling  heroine ;  if  you 
enjoy  an  absorbing  mystery,  be  ready  to  cudgel  your 
brains  over  a  perplexing  one ;  if  you  care  for  adventures 
that  thrill,  follow  Maurice  Wynn  through  the  mad  whirl 
of  events  that  befall  him  when  he  goes  to  Russia  and 
becomes  involved  with  a  secret  society  of  Nihilists. 
Better  yet,  if  you  're  fond  of  a  rattling  good  yarn,  one 
which  combines  all  three  elements,  love,  mystery,  and 
action,  in  just  the  right  proportions,  take  up  "  The  Red 
Symbol,"  and  when  you  have  turned  the  last  page,  with 
nerves  all  tingling,  you  will  regret  that  you  're  not  just 
starting. 

This  swiftly  moving  narrative  promises  to  be  one  of  the 
most  popular  novels  of  1910. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHER* 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTOK 


"  A  howling  success  " 


AN  AMERICAN  BABY 
ABROAD 


By  MRS.  CHARLES   N.   CREWDSON 

Illustrations  by  It.  F.  Outcault  and  Modest  Stein 
Hmo.     Cloth.     $1.50 


When  the  American  baby's  mother  hurries  off  from 
London  to  Egypt,  where  her  husband  is  ill  with  fever, 
the  baby,  in  company  with  its  colored  nurse  and  a  friend 
of  its  mother's,  follows  more  leisurely.  The  trio  stop 
at  Oberammergau  to  see  the  Passion  Play,  in  Rome  to 
witness  a  special  mass  conducted  by  Pope  Leo,  —  in  a 
word,  do  more  or  less  sightseeing,  until  they  finally 
reach  Cairo,  where  much  more  exciting  events  befall 
them.  The  description  of  the  places  they  visit  is  en- 
hanced by  a  pleasant  vein  of  humor,  and  an  attractive 
love  episode  sustains  the  interest.  It  is  an  extremely 
entertaining  story,  light  and  vivacious,  with  brisk  dia- 
logue and  diverting  situations — just  the  book  for  summer 
reading. 

A  series  of  characteristic  pictures,  by  the  well-known 
artist,  Mr.  B.  F.  Outcault,  and  Modest  Stein  gives  addi- 
tional charm  to  the  volume. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


